Gravity
by Comingsummers
Summary: Jack has never been normal, which is why he chose to move to Gotham and make a name for himself. When he meets Madeline, a waitress at the local diner, he becomes immersed in the darkness of Gotham without even trying. Sometimes, love is the push into madness. A Joker origin story that takes place during Batman Begins, may go into TDK. Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**Hello there my lovely readers! As the summary states, this is a Joker origin story. I have been messing with this idea for quite a while now, and I finally have enough of a story in my head, and enough chapters already written to feel good about posting it on here. **

**I do want to clarify that my Joker is not the one that we see in the movies. This story takes place in the years before Batman Begins, and I intend for it to give some insight into how he became the way he was in the Dark Knight. My character is probably crazy, but he still has reasons to stay alive, and he isn't set on killing thousands of people. I just wanted to clarify that, so you all know that I am trying to capture the deeper side of his character, not just the homicidal maniac that we all love. That said I am trying to do justice to Heath Ledger's interpretation of the Joker, and he is pretty Joker like, at least in my opinion...**

**I also feel like I should warn you all that this story will be fairly dark. There is bound to be plenty of violence where the Joker is concerned, and my OC doesn't exactly start off in the best of circumstances. I said in the summary that it was rated M for language, violence, consent and non-consent, etc, and I meant that. I will try to warn you when a chapter is going to be particularly dark, but I just want you to be aware that I might slip up. **

**OK, I have now written the longest author's note in history, so I'm going to slip back into a corner and let you guys read. Thanks!**

**- I do not own any of the Nolan characters used in this story; I only own my original characters and ideas. I am not making any money from this story. **

**Chapter One - Drop**

_I touch the tongue to see, A devil's face in front of me, A sad man in front of me, You blow your nose then cry, And the clown demands a sad good-bye, A sad man and sad good-bye._

_Black below the tree, White horse dead in front of me, A sad man in front of me, A scar below the cheek, Where there's a sweaty man with a bloody sink, A sad man and bloody sink_

_- Blue October_

Jack stood on the side of a nearly deserted highway, his thumb eagerly held up in the air as yet another car flew passed him. He figured it was nearing midnight and in his experience few people were willing to pick a man up from the side of the road at this late of an hour, even if the temperatures were frigid. He hadn't really held much hope for a ride when he had heard that car coming, but he still had to try. He trudged steadily north for about ten minutes before he heard the sound of another car in the distance. He stopped, placed his duffel bag on the ground beside him, and pulled his scarf more tightly around his lower face. There weren't very many people out there that would pick up a person that had a face like his, regardless of the hour.

Jack was pleasantly surprised when the car slowed as it approached him and finally pulled to a stop about 100 feet down the road from him. He picked his bag up and quickly jogged to the the driver's window of the car. There was a burly black man with a bushy beard that was heavily shot with grey driving the old car, and he seemed to be alone. Jack's voice was muffled by his scarf, "Thanks for, uh, stopping. You're a rare soul."

The man eyed Jack somewhat suspiciously, but without malice and then nodded his head slightly. His voice was warm and carried a slight southern accent, "Well I wouldn't feel quite right lettin' a man freeze to death... So, where you headed?" Jack noticed that the man had his right hand lightly resting on a revolver, and understood his greater willingness to stop. He felt that he was protected from the crazies of the night. Of course that wasn't really true, but Jack was willing to let it slide. He just wanted a ride after all, no need to hurt the guy and take the car.

"I'm headed to Gotham. I've got some, uh, work lined up there. I'm willing to split gas costs with you if you need it..." Jack actually had plenty of cash in his bag and he could have most likely bought his own car for the trip, but it had seemed like a waste of money. Not to mention that he really didn't want any way for people to trace him to his old life, he didn't need that. Hell, that was why he was on his way to Gotham, he was starting a new life. Not in the way that most people did, no clean, fresh start for him. His ideas of a new life were much more... fun.

The large man looked him hard in the eye and seemed to consider if he posed a threat, until after a moment he seemed to conclude that Jack could make a decent companion. "Well buddy, you're in luck, I'm on my way to Gotham as well. Put your bag in the back and jump in. I'm on a schedule... want to get to the warehouse district by dawn." He shifted his pistol into his lap and rolled his window up. Jack opened the back door on his way around the beat up car and tossed his bag into the back seat, before slipping in the passenger seat.

As Jack settled into the seat he adjusted his scarf, so that it was a little more comfortable, but it still assured that the other man wouldn't be able to see his face. "Thanks for the ride." He shifted slightly in his seat, trying to get comfortable for the ride ahead. He hoped that the man wouldn't be chatty, as he really had nothing to say. He cleared his throat and when he spoke again his voice was slightly deeper and rougher, "I'll give you some cash for the gas when we, uh, get to your destination."

The man glanced over at him as he set the cruise control on the car. He nodded his assent and turned back to the road, attempting to focus on the drive ahead. "That's just fine. So, where you from?" Jack could tell that the older man was rather uncomfortable for some reason, but he didn't feel like he was the reason for the man's discomfort. He wondered what the cause could be, assuming it wasn't him, and considered the man's destination. The warehouse district was well known for it's criminal activity and it only took seconds for Jack to put two and two together. The man wasn't necessarily one of the _good guys_ and he was probably on his way to do something unsavory. That was perfectly fine with Jack, he didn't care what people did with their time. It also made it much easier to deal with his host.

This little bit of understanding made it much easier to answer the question the man had asked. "Different places, same as you probably." He shrugged his shoulders to show that it was inconsequential, then he squirmed in his seat, still trying to get comfortable. It was a constant thing with him, he was almost always uncomfortable and had a very hard time holding still. He had always suffered from the affliction, which had proved to be a real problem for him as a child. Much to the dismay of those around him, it hadn't vastly improved as he grew up. No one wanted to hang around with a mutilated freak that couldn't hold still for more than a minute.

He glanced over at the man beside him and could see the next question formulating in his mouth and knew that he needed to put a halt to that. "I'm pretty, um, tired. So, I think I'm going to try to get some shut eye. Hope you don't mind." He didn't wait for the man to respond before he sank further into his seat, tucked his face into the collar of his wool jacket, and closed his eyes to feign sleep. Though he knew there was no way that he would actually sleep in a moving vehicle with an unknown man driving, he figured it was the easiest way to avoid unwanted conversation. The old man grumbled unintelligibly for a second, and then fell silent for the remainder of the ride.

* * *

Jack opened his eyes when he felt the old car come to full halt, and had been surprised to see that he wasn't in a warehouse district. The old man had brought him to a low income commercial district, and he sounded weary and irritated when he addressed Jack, "This is your stop, buddy. Boss wouldn't like me bringing strangers around. Twenty ought to cover your portion of the gas." Jack looked over at him and smiled under his scarf. He climbed out of the car and grabbed his bag out of the back, unzipping a small zipper compartment on the side and pulling a $50 out.

He shoved the bill at the man, "Keep the change, _buddy_. Thanks for the ride." He didn't wait to hear a response, though he did see the shock cross the old man's face. He would have gladly paid more for the easy ride that he had just enjoyed, but the old guy hadn't asked for more.

He strolled down the quiet street, analyzing the area around him. He saw an old fashioned diner about half a block down on his right and decided to head in that direction, in spite of the fact that it was closed. Food was always a consideration when you were exploring a new place. One didn't want to set up residence in an area where decent fodder was unavailable.

When he reached the diner he was disappointed to find that they didn't have a menu posted outside, but he peered in the window anyway. In his brief survey he found that the place looked clean, and the layout was about the same as all the other old diners he had seen. There were booths placed around the edges of the building, a bunch of tables in the middle and a low bar that surrounded the center of the building. Behind the bar there was a semi-open kitchen, and he figured their menu would be the standard diner fare. He mused that it might make a respectable place to get a bite to eat, if he found lodging and a corner market nearby. So, he continued down the block.

The nearest hotel was two blocks down and on the other side of the road, but it seemed like it might be his kind of place. It was 5:37am according to his watch and there were still two haggard prostitutes standing outside. Not that he was interested in the hookers themselves, just the fact that they were parked outside this particular hotel at that hour. It indicated to him that this was the type of establishment that didn't notice their guests, and they wouldn't have any trouble accepting cash with no credit card. He figured the rooms would probably be filthy at best, but he could clean his room up himself if it was necessary. So after a pause to make sure he was fully concealed he approached the grungy hotel.

The lobby was dark and dank, the air smelled of old mold and it was thick with the scent of sex. The carpet was threadbare and it had so many stains on it that he couldn't be sure what color it was originally. Maybe tan, he decided. There was a balding man, with wire rimmed glasses, slouched behind the front desk. The man didn't even look up at him until Jack rang the little bell on the counter, and then he seemed genuinely surprised that there was someone there. His eyes narrowed as he took in Jack's tall, lanky frame, chin length hair, and dark attire, including the black scarf that concealed his face. The man seemed annoyed that he had to work and he let out a huff before he spoke. "Hey mister, how many hours are you needing?" His tone was bored and he simply oozed discontent.

Jack was amused by the man's foolish attitude and a smile played across his face. His tongue flicked out and teased the corner of his mouth as he pondered what to tell the portly, little man. After a moment he decided that this hotel would be ideal, the man behind the counter was too annoyed with his job to do it properly, so there should be very little trouble with him and he figured that most of the employees would be of a similar mind.

Jack clicked his mouth and replied, "I want to rent a room for the month." His grin grew when he saw the other man's eyes widen in complete surprise and his tongue slipped out again. It was a habit that was more prominent when he was put into social situations, though he did it at least a little bit all the time.

"Well... well that's most unusual. I guess we can accommodate you for... say $800?" The man's eyes had shifted up to the ceiling as he thought of a fee, and Jack knew that he was just trying to figure out how much he could get away with for himself. Jack didn't care and was willing to pay that amount, money was not of great importance to him. It was easy to get more when you had the specific skill set that he did. Jack reached into the small pocket in his bag once again. Feeling the bills within it and pulling out exactly 16 of the 50-dollar bills that were inside of it. He placed the wad of cash on the counter without a word and glanced at the man to see the look of astonishment that flooded his face. Jack loved surprising people, he thought the way that people's faces would flood with their emotions was incredibly interesting.

It took the front desk man - Bill, according to his cracked name tag - a moment to compose himself and count the money, but then he was back to business. "I'll need a name for the record. That and a signature." He placed a guest book in front of Jack, with three columns in it. He could see that it was full of room numbers, names and signatures. His assigned room was 307, and he was pleased that he would be two levels above the lobby. He could only hope it meant he would be away from the main action during the night, but he doubted that any of the hotel was really fully away from all that. He filled in the name portion with the name, Jay Reipan, and signed something completely indistinguishable. That wasn't his name of course, but he couldn't go leaving a paper trail, not even in a place like this one. When he was done he pushed the book back at the clerk and held his hand out for the key. He walked out of the lobby without a word.

Jack had been pleasantly surprised by his room. It was small and old, but it was surprisingly clean and he supposed that the clerk had given him a room that was generally reserved for _real_ guests. The bed was twin sized and obviously too short for him, but the sheets were clean and had minimal staining. There was even a small desk in one corner and a tiny dresser with a very old looking TV resting on it. The bathroom had a full size tub with decent water pressure and a single towel that seemed to have blood stains on it. Jack tossed his duffel bag on the bed and pulled a long sleeved, black tee shirt and a pair of black slacks out. He wanted a shower before he lied down for a little nap.

* * *

Jack stepped into the cold winter wind, pulling the collar of his jacket closer to his neck to combat the icy fingers of the frigid breeze. He had left his scarf in the room, because he couldn't wear it while he was eating anyway, but now that the cold was pricking at his face he regretted the decision. It was nine and the night was completely black, the moon hardly willing to peer through the haze that filled the sky of Gotham. Jack had been surprised by the late hour when he awakened from his nap and noticed immediately that he was ravenous. He knew it was time to check out the little diner he had passed that morning.

He walked the distance without any trouble; the three people he crossed paths with were quick to look away once they saw his face, and he stepped out of the cold and into the warm diner after only a few minutes in the cold. His eyes scanned the building, noticing immediately that it was a "seat yourself" kind of establishment. With that piece of information he looked around trying to decide on the section that would best suit him. He was quick to assess that there were three different waitresses, one was actually a waiter, but that was of little importance to him. He was mostly interested in who was the most proficient, and who wouldn't bother him with obnoxious small talk or stare at him. He simply wanted to eat in peace.

Jack looked at each section and the person working in that section for a few moments, while chewing the inside of the scar on his left cheek. He immediately discounted the man that seemed to be in charge of all the tables in the place, when he saw that there were no condiments on any of his tables and the salt and pepper shakers were nearly empty. He was not a skilled employee and would not serve the purpose. He then surveyed the bar area that seemed to belong to a woman, and noted that all of her customers seemed well tended, but she also seemed to be a chatter. She was actually the epitome of the "movie" waitress; bleach blonde hair that was up in a messy bun, slightly overweight with big breasts and a shapely rear, and she was noisily chewing gum. No, no, no, she would never do.

He sighed through his nose, just sure that he would have to move on in order to find an appropriate place to eat. Then he turned his head and glanced at the area with all the booths, belonging to the other woman. The waitress herself was dressed in black slacks and a long sleeved white blouse that was buttoned all the way up under her chin. He had noticed that seemed to be what the uniform was _supposed_ to be, though the other two had modified it to suit their tastes. Her dark hair was about to her waist and cut in a rather ragged style, hiding her face from his view. She had a nice figure, though she was a little thin in his opinion. He noticed that all of her customers seemed to be well tended, but she most definitely was not engaging in idle chatter with them. In fact, as he was watching her, a man tried to engage her in small talk and she completely ignored him, walking away before the man was able to finish his question.

A small smile played across his face as he shuffled toward the small booth that was unoccupied in her section. He sat down and removed the black gloves from his hands before picking up the menu that was waiting on the table in front of him. He only needed to scan it to determine that the fare was exactly what he had expected, and so he mentally decided on something simple. The waitress was quick to notice him and he awaited her approach with mild apprehension. He expected to be in the area for some time, and in spite of the dismal offering in the food department, he felt that this place would serve his nutritional needs for the duration. That was if he found the staff to be acquiescing to his needs, and if they were smart enough not to stare. It annoyed him when people stared… sometimes his annoyance would turn into something else… something deadly. Deadly was something he just couldn't let happen right then, and so he had to find a place to eat where that wouldn't be a problem.

When the waitress finally reached his booth he was prepared for the curiosity that was sure to fill her gaze, and then the pity, and then, if he was lucky she would just move on and take his order. What actually happened was not at all what he expected though, and he was therefore somewhat unprepared. She looked at him with tired eyes, surveying the permanent smile that graced his cheeks briefly, before returning her eyes to his. Not a single flicker of emotion moved across her face and she simply intoned the obviously required message, "Hi, my name is Madeline, and I will be your server tonight. What can I get for you, sir?"

Jack was thrilled… he knew he had found the perfect dining experience.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to all of you that read the first chapter of this story, especially those of you that reviewed, favorited, and followed it. You guys are the absolute best, and you totally make my day. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and that you will share your thoughts with me. Thanks!**

**Chapter Two - Calm Before the Storm**

_The calm before the storm, set it off, And the sun burnt out tonight, A reception less than warm, set it off, And the sun burnt out tonight_

_This is me standing in the arch of the door, Hating that look that's on your face, That says there's another fool like me, There's one born every minute, There's one born every minute - Fall Out Boy_

Madeline's shift started at eight and when she arrived at the Centennial Diner the night was in full swing. They didn't serve alcohol at the restaurant, but that didn't seem to stop the clientele from imbibing from their private stash, and she could tell that most of the people in her section were completely smashed. Jenny - the woman she was relieving - confirmed her suspicion and warned her that the guys at booth three were really in fine form, ass slapping included. Madeline was not in the mood for that and knew that this was going to be an even longer shift than it should be. And it was her Monday, six long nights were ahead of her now.

It was a little over an hour into her shift when the man wound up at one of her booths. At that point she had already had her ass grabbed twice and had heard numerous catcalls from the men that filled her section. It was friday night after all, and she knew from experience that the men liked to get extra annoying on payday. She just tolerated it, like most other things in her life. So, when she saw the scarred man sitting alone at a booth, with a dangerous scowl on his face, she felt no more trepidation about him than any other man in the building. In fact his scowl was a welcome sight compared to the lewd smirks that seemed to be filling every other man's face at that point.

When she reached his table she pulled out her order pad and glanced at his scars for only a second, seeing that he didn't have a full glasgow smile, but very nearly. She wasn't particularly curious about this man, or any of her other customers, and she knew that her face showed that. When her eyes returned to his she was slightly surprised to see that they were full of glee. She found that slightly unnerving, but she figured that he was accustomed to being bombarded with questions and sad looks, so she guessed that he was just pleased that she wasn't bugging him. She spoke the words she had to, and took his order for a club sandwich and a bowl of the vegetable soup, with water to drink. She made sure her service was prompt and that her eyes never wandered, and was pleased when she found that her good service had been rewarded. He had left a $20 on the table to cover his $12 bill and walked out, meaning that he had left her an $8 tip. Which was by far the best tip she gotten from a single person that whole night, and he had even been polite.

The only obnoxious part of serving the scarred man was that all of her coworkers had noticed him as well and wanted to know all about him. While they were cleaning the restaurant after closing, they all began bombarding her with questions. They wanted to know if he had told her about his permanent smile, and if he had been a perv. It seemed like they had each come up with their own crazy story about what a freak he was, and they were openly disappointed and annoyed when she didn't confirm their crazy ideas. The stupid chatter made the job of cleaning and prepping for the people that would be in at six that morning all the more tedious and annoying, and she was more than ready to be leaving when they finally finished at 1:24am.

She walked the six blocks to the small house that she lived in with her husband. The house was in one of the few neighborhoods with actual houses in the Narrows, though the houses were small and ugly. Her's was completely nondescript, just a small box sitting in a weedy yard, with a crumbling sidewalk leading to cracked concrete steps. The inside of the house matched its cracked and weed filled entryway. Though she kept the place clean, there was little that could do about the stage of disrepair the house was in. There was also nothing that she could do about the holes in the walls and the splintered wood of the door frames. Those were there to be constant reminders of the man she was married to, just in case there was any way she could ever forget.

She had gotten married when she was nineteen, because the guy had gotten her pregnant. She had miscarried two weeks after the wedding, and right after that was the first time he had hit her. Madeline had known Rob had a violent temper when she first got with him, but he had never indicated that he would harm her. That all changed in a flash when she had begun to cry after telling him that she had lost the baby. At first she hadn't comprehended what was going on when that stinging heat flared across her cheek, and when she did understand she could only wish that she didn't.

That first flare of pain had been six years before and there had been hundreds of pain filled nights since then, but it had been years since the pain had touched her heart like it did in the beginning. Now it hardly even phased her soul when his fists would start to fly. Though most people wondered why she was still with him, she wasn't able to explain it to them. She wasn't even able to explain it to herself fully. It was just what her life was, the way it had always been, it seemed. And there was the fact that Rob was closely related to the Falcone family, that was a reason to stay in itself. She knew it was likely that someday he would kill her, but it was certain that if she left him one of his uncles or cousins would kill her. The odds weren't in her favor either way, but they were slightly better if she remained where she was.

She walked up the cracked steps and unlocked the front door, entering the cramped living room. The house was dark and she figured that Rob must have already gone to bed, so she pulled her coat off and hung it on the rickety coat rack that stood by the door. She went into the bathroom and undressed quietly, slipping into the steaming water of the shower and washing the scent of meat and grease from her tired body. There were a few yellowing bruises on her ribs and a hand shaped print in blue on her upper arm. She washed them with the same lack of attention that she paid to the rest of her body, the discoloration no longer even registering in her mind.

She wrapped herself in a towel as she slipped out of the shower and left the bathroom, finding Rob just as she had expected to; face down on the bed, still fully clothed with his fingers tightly clasped around the neck of a nearly empty bottle of vodka. She let a little sigh of annoyance slip through her full lips and then walked over and cautiously removed the bottle from his meaty hand. She carried the bottle into the silent kitchen and found a lid for it on an already empty bottle, then placed it in the freezer for the night. She went back to the bedroom where she removed his shoes and his pants and got him situated under the sheets. Though she desperately wanted to sleep elsewhere and avoid the noxious smell that emanated from his alcohol filled body, she knew that it would only end in fresh bruises if she did. So she climbed under the sheets and lay against the edge of the bed, with her back to her husband. Sleep was long in reaching her, but when it finally came it was oddly filled with the face of her scarred customer.

* * *

She was only about ten minutes into her shift the next night when the scarred man reappeared in one of her booths. When she spotted him she felt her face try to twitch up into a smile, but it was cut short when a woman yelled at her from across the diner, her shrill voice cutting through the conversation that filled the diner like a knife. "You better bring my damn mustard right now, or you'll be wearing it, girl!" Madeline's eyes blazed and she found herself having to fight to maintain her composure. She didn't like the lascivious men that frequented the restaurant, but the men and women that were downright mean and demeaning were by far the worst. She grabbed a mustard off of one of her empty booths and stalked over to the woman. She slammed the bottle down with enough force to send a small jet of the yellow fluid flying into the air. She turned on her heel and walked away without a word, though she heard the woman mumble a few choice ones as she walked away.

When she reached the man's booth she found that he had been watching the exchange and that a small smirk was sitting on his face. She immediately noticed that his expression caused her face to break its scowl and smile a little too. For some reason she found that she liked the strange man. Instead of her usual monotone greeting she decided to let her pleasure at seeing him again show. "Well hello there. What can I get you this time, friend?" She noticed that his brows flew together in a scowl for a moment when she called him friend, but his face smoothed almost instantly. She took a second to study his face while he glanced back down at the menu. He looked to be a couple of years older than she was, but not much. He was actually quite handsome other than the rather grotesque scars that covered both cheeks. When he looked back up at her she noticed that he had beautiful brown eyes, that reminded her of the chocolate she had melted to dip strawberries in for Valentine's day. They were fluid, sweat, warm, and dark.

She suddenly felt her face flush and found herself glancing around the room, feeling oddly self conscious. His voice seemed warmer than it had the previous night when he began speaking, and she looked him in the eyes as he spoke. "I think tonight I'll try the meatloaf, and I'd like coffee to drink." At the request for meatloaf she couldn't stop her nose from wrinkling in distaste. Most of the food in the diner was mediocre, but the meatloaf was just downright bad. She actually believed they used canned dog food as the main ingredient, though she didn't have any hard proof. The man was quick to notice her look of disgust, and didn't hesitate to call her on it. "Not the meatloaf, huh? Well, then I guess I'll leave it up to you. I still want the coffee though. Black." He handed the menu up to her and turned his head to look out the window, effectively ending the conversation.

Madeline stood there dumbfounded for a moment, her mouth hanging slightly agape. She realized that he expected her to pick his meal and for a brief second she was absolutely horrified, but she was quick to pull herself together and wrote down an order for the one thing that she thought was good in the diner; a bacon cheeseburger with fries and onion rings. She swiftly returned with his coffee and made sure that he received his food as soon as the order was up, but she tried to avoid that booth unless he needed something for the rest of his stay.

She was standing with her back to his booth, tallying up a cheque for one of her more annoying tables when she felt a firm but gentle grip on her upper arm. She spun around, ready to deal with a belligerent customer that was harassing her, but instead she found herself looking up into that strangely handsome face that she had been trying to avoid for the past 45 minutes. He didn't smile at her, but his eyes were warm and twinkling and his voice was velvety soft and warm. "Thank you Madeline, your choice was superb. See you tomorrow night." Then he had released her arm and walked out the door and into the dark night.

When she made it back to his table to clear it and collect his money she found that he had left her a $21 tip and had written 'Thanks... J" on his ticket. For some reason his little message made her bloom with pleasure. The Centennial Diner never had polite customers that tipped well, and for whatever weird reason Madeline found herself rather liking her new customer. She walked to the cash register and placed the money for his bill into the drawer, and then for some unknown reason, she placed the ticket with the little message on it into her pocket with her tip.

A small smile graced her face for the rest of her shift, even when her co workers began their indecent questioning.

* * *

She had just walked into the house on Wednesday night - her work week over - when she felt Rob's hand close around her throat. His eyes were glazed, but they burned bright with rage. His free hand clutched one of her order sheets, waving it wildly in front of her face. His voice was loud and slurred when it slid through his tightly gritted teeth. "Who the fuck is J? Huh? HUH?" He shoved her away from him hard, causing her to stumble backwards and fall over the coffee table. "You getting some prick on the side? Huh? Is that why I haven't gotten laid in a week?"

She quickly clawed her way up onto the couch, trying to get on her feet before he could get to her. Her mind was reeling and she couldn't imagine what he was talking about, until she spotted the order slip still flailing in his hand. J, the polite man that had come in every night that week like clockwork. How had she been so stupid as to keep the ticket that he had written on? She had just barely gotten her feet beneath her while she sorted out her predicament, and so she dived in head first trying to save her skin. "Baby, I could never be with another man. You're the only one I want, and you know it. I don't know who J is… I must have found that ticket on the floor and just shoved it in my pocket to put in the trash and forgot about it."

He flew at her with a speed that was surprising considering his substantial girth and level of intoxication. "You're a lying bitch, and I know you're nothing more than a common whore." His left hand shot out and grabbed her chin, holding it tightly, but almost in a tender manner. His voice dropped to a soft purr, and Madeline knew that she was really in trouble. "Just tell me who he is, Lynn. I know you're fucking somebody, and if you tell me who it is I'll leave you alone."

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word his right fist crashed into her face, rocketing her back into the couch. The world seemed to fade away, and the darkness of the room creeped up on her a bit. Rob sounded far away, but she knew that he was still right there, and she tried to understand what he was saying. "See, I knew you were lying. You showed me that when you opened your mouth to tell me who he is." She felt him grip her chin again, forcing her to look up at his jowly face. "You see, I don't give a shit who he is, but you better not ever touch him again. If you do, well then I'll be forced to find out who he is, cut his dick off, and beat you to death with it. And well babe, you're just too good a fuck to waste like that."

With that he strode back into the kitchen and she could hear him crack open a beer, before he returned to the living room to sit next to her on the couch. He turned the TV on to some old movie and watched it intently until she started to rise from the couch. He waited until she started to step away from him, then smacked her hard on the ass. "Go take a shower. You smell like shit."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Well hello there my lovely readers! Thanks to those of you that had added me to your subscriptions! I really would love to hear from all of you, so please take a moment to leave me your thoughts when you're done reading this chapter. Thanks!**

**I hope you all are enjoying this story so far. I do know that it isn't exactly fast moving at this point, but I really want things to develop naturally between my characters. I hope this doesn't bother any of you too much. I promise that there will be lots of excitement, romance, ad darkness as the story progresses, just not yet. Thanks!**

**Chapter Three – Face Down**

_Hey girl, you know, you drive me crazy, One look puts the rhythm in my hand, Still I'll never understand why you hang around, I see what's goin' down _  
_Cover up with make up in the mirror, Tell yourself it's never gonna happen again, You cry alone and then he swears he loves you_

_- Red Jumpsuit Apparatus_

Jack walked into the diner and sat at his usual booth. It seemed that it was always vacant, and he could only assume it was because it only had a seat on one side and it wasn't really wide enough for two people. It worked wonderfully for him, and he was glad that no one else seemed to want it. He glanced down at the menu, though he was already settled on what he wanted, he felt compelled to look at the menu nonetheless. He saw black pants coming his way and looked up with a small smile playing across his maimed features. The smile immediately left his face when he saw that the woman walking toward him was not his usual waitress. This girl was younger, with blonde hair cut in a pixie style, and way too much makeup. She approached him with a look of faint disquiet on her heart-shaped face.

"Good evening, sir. My name is Suzette. What can I get for you?"

Jack had to suppress a snarl of annoyance at the timid way she spoke to him. He could see her eyes shifting to his face and then away rapidly and found his temper rising with each passing second. He considered just getting up and walking out, but he was hungry and hadn't purchased provisions to feed himself with for the night. It really would be more trouble than it was worth to leave at that point, so he swallowed his anger, and tried to speak calmly to the girl. "You can get the other waitress that works this section." He looked around the diner swiftly, trying to spot the woman that he wanted, his tongue slipping out to nervously lick his lower lip. "Where is she tonight?"

The small blonde screwed up her face and looked as if she was thinking very hard about something, then giggled anxiously before answering him. "Lynn has the night off. I work Thursdays for her." She smiled slightly at him, "She'll be back tomorrow night, but I can take care of you tonight." Somehow her fearful demeanor was instantly replaced by a flirtatious one, and Jack had to choke back the feeling of disgust he had in his throat. He knew that she was no more attracted to him than she would be to a corpse, but still she tried to act like she was in order to garner a chunk of his money. She was exactly the type of woman that he liked to avoid. He didn't mind whores, because at least they were honest about what they were doing, but women that only teased and pretended made him crazy.

Still, he had to eat and he was already there. He figured if he was surly enough she would leave him alone. "I want the meatloaf and a black coffee. Hurry it up, I'm hungry." He practically barked his order at her, changing his meal choice to see what she would say. The other woman had made it obvious that the meatloaf was not something that should be ordered, which had most definitely piqued his interest.

The new girl didn't even bat an eyelash at his request. In fact, she smiled a toothy grin down at him and told him, "That's a great choice, sir. I'll get your order in right away." He wouldn't be surprised if she spit in his food.

He was also unsurprised when it took over five minutes for him to get his coffee, and almost half an hour for his meal to arrive. The waitress was always full of smiles when she would come to the table, but she only stopped at his side when it was absolutely necessary. The food was cold, and even if it had been hot it would have been nearly inedible. He could only count himself lucky that he was used to lousy food. If that hadn't been the case, his meal would have been a real disappointment, As it was he actually was pretty pleased, it just proved that the other woman had indeed been looking out for him.

When the blonde girl brought his cheque she actually had the audacity to touch his shoulder and call him "love". He decided that for her repulsive act of attraction to him and her lousy service she deserved no tip, so he left exact change on the table and walked out into the cold night.

* * *

Madeline stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to cover up her husbands latest work. It wouldn't be the first time that she would be forced to go to work with a puffy and discolored face, and she doubted that it would be the last time, but that didn't diminish the displeasure she felt at the prospect. She had at least been able to cover the bruise on her neck with a jaunty red and green scarf that worked with the upcoming holiday season, but she didn't think her boss would be pleased if she decided to wear a veil for the weekend. That left her to attempt to cover the swollen and purple flesh with makeup, something that she knew would be pointless. Afterall, she was an expert, having been trying for the last six years. She knew that in a few more days when the swelling was completely gone and the dark shades had faded to yellow, then it would be easy. Until then, she would just have to live with it.

With a sigh she pulled her long hair into a ponytail high on her head, and applied a bright lipstick. Though it did little to distract from her husbands handy work, it did make Madeline feel better in a way. She had full, luscious lips, and though she typically only wore a light gloss, whenever she put the red lipstick on it made her feel more powerful. She had a feeling that she would be in need of power tonight.

She glanced down at her uniform, pulling a long, brown hair off of her slacks, and then walked out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit living room. Rob was in the kitchen with one of his friends, Mitch, drinking beer and discussing the finer points of the latest Rogues game. She could hear that they had a new quarterback and Rob was arguing that it would bring them glory. She shook her head, Gotham hadn't won more than one game a season in years, and she doubted that was going to change any time soon.

She walked into the kitchen and bent down to give Rob a peck on the cheek as a farewell. "Bye, babe."

He grabbed her chin, squeezing the already sore and bruised skin. "Where do you think you're going?"

"It's Friday, baby. I gotta go to work." She tried to sound cheerful, but it was hard with him holding her the way he was.

"So it is." He nodded and roughly released her chin. "Well, you remember what we talked about. I don't want you slutting around." He grabbed her scarf, pulling her back down and planting a sloppy kiss on her red lips. "And babe?" He gave the scarf a savage jerk, making her almost squeak in surprise and pain. "Take this fucking thing off. People should see that you're mine, and that you've been disciplined for your bad behaviour."

She shrugged and untied the fabric, dropping it on the table in front of him. "OK, baby. See you in a few hours."

She grabbed her keys and walked out the front door, noticing that the sky was filled with snow heavy clouds. It was warmer than it had been the night before, the clouds overhead holding in the little bit of warmth the day had brought, but she knew that if it started to snow before she got home it would make for a very unpleasant walk.

She made it to the diner a few minutes before her shift would start and was surprised to see that Suzette was working her section instead of Jenny. Madeline didn't particularly like the young blonde, even though she was a perfectly good waitress. Her only reason for disliking the girl was the fact that she had once overheard her telling Jeff - the only male server at the diner - how ugly Lynn always looked with her bruises, and that if she was going to walk around looking like that she shouldn't be doing it in front of people that were trying to eat. Madeline hid her dislike well however, when she walked over to the petite waitress and smilingly took the order pad from her outstretched palm.

"Hey girl. How's it going tonight? It looks a little slow." She waved her arm at the many empty seats and then fastened her short apron at her waist.

"Yeah, its been pretty quiet tonight. It was hopping last night though." Suzette started to turn away, and then she abruptly faced her again. "Oh yeah, some weird guy asked for you last night."

Madeline frowned, the expression tugging at her sore cheek. "Weirder than the usual dregs that come in here?"

"Definitely. This guy was heeby jeeby weird, and he was a total jerk. Didn't leave me a tip even though I flirted with the ugly freak." Her lips were pouty, and she looked very annoyed by that little fact, but Madeline felt like laughing. She knew that Suzete liked to lay it on thick, and if the guy was who she thought it was, it didn't surprise her one bit that he hadn't liked it. He didn't strike her as the type to buy into the fake young woman.

"Well thanks for the warning hon', I'll keep my eyes open for him." She gave the girl a little pat to send her on her way and headed to her section to start the long night ahead.

* * *

Jack was later than usual getting to the diner and it was only an hour before closing when he walked in, escaping the light snow that was falling outside. He had spent most of the evening seeking gainful employment. Well, perhaps not _gainful_, but the kind of employment that he was suited for. It was mainly just something to get him started in the the city, something to get a name for himself. Though he felt it was almost a waste of his skills to spend his time as a thug for a small time bookie, he didn't really mind. After all, it would feel good to get a little blood on his shoes and some extra cash in his pocket.

He shook the snow out of his hair and stamped his boots to clear the slush off of them, before he made his way to the empty booth that beckoned to him. He sat down and absently twiddled the butter knife in his hands, anxiously waiting for the waitress to come. Though he wouldn't admit it, he was slightly nervous that the dumb blond would turn up again, instead of the no-nonsense girl that he had grown fond of.

His fears were laid to rest almost immediately, when he saw her pouring a cup of coffee on the other side of the counter. Though her back was to him, he knew it was her from the way her uniform clung slightly to her hips and the swing of the pony tail that hung from her head. He released a breath he hadn't known he was holding and set the knife back in place on the paper placemat. He glanced down at the menu, his tongue flicking out and caressing the scars at the corner of his mouth. It was a habit that no matter how hard he had tried to stop, he always fell back into it. In a way they seemed like a safety blanket to him, even if they were far from warm and fuzzy.

He looked up when a pale hand placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. "You looked cold, so I thought you would want this right away." She sounded tired, but he could hear the smile in her voice before he saw it on her face. Actually, he never noticed the smile on her face, because his eyes stopped on the raised purple flesh of her cheek. He was able to clearly see three individual knuckle imprints that were a deeper shade than the overall bruise, and he was quick to see the other discolorations on her face and neck as well. Her chin was only faintly bruised and he couldn't see the exact shape of fingers on it, but he could visualize the meaty hand that must have gripped her. Her neck was almost as dark as her cheek, and it was clearly a large hand that had done that as well.

His eyes narrowed in anger and his tongue ran over his lower lip in a rapid dance of irritation. "Purple isn't your color, doll."

The smile that he had never noticed fell from her face and was briefly replaced by hurt. That almost instantly died away, and he saw her eyes narrow dangerously. "I'll keep that in mind. Now what are you eating."

He wasn't interested in food anymore, in spite of the fact that he had been ravenous just seconds before. Now he wanted to know who had done that to the only waitress he could even begin to tolerate. He had no problem with violence, and even murder, but he had no patience for men that hit on their wives. He had seen enough of that to last several lifetimes and wasn't interested in seeing any more. His hand waved up at her face, clutching the butter knife again. "Who did that, doll?"

She looked at him and sighed with exasperation. "That's not really your concern, now is it?" Her eyes fell on the knife that he had begun flipping absently in his hand. "Put that down, would you? Now what are you going to order? They're closing the kitchen early tonight since its slow, and I need to get your order in if you want to eat."

He looked at her for a minute and put the knife down. "The coffee is all I want now." She started to turn away from him and he reached up, gently catching her arm in his hand. She spun back at him, her eyes dark. "I wasn't done, doll. I want the name of the guy that did that."

The rage left her eyes, and he saw that beneath it there was nothing but fatigue and defeat. "Sorry, but that isn't on the menu tonight." She pulled away from him, but did it slowly, almost like she didn't want to. "I have to get to my other tables."

He sat watching the dark haired waitress and nursing his coffee for the next hour. He knew she could tell that he was staring, but he didn't really care. He had never been very good with the regular social graces that seemed to come naturally to those around him. He was surprised to note that she didn't seem bothered by his constant stare, and she didn't even comment on it when she would come to fill his mug.

As closing time got closer and the few people that had been in her section started to file out she began filling the salt and pepper shakers and the napkin dispensers on the table tops. He expected her to pass him by like she had the two drunks that were sitting at a booth a few down from him, but instead she stopped.

"Can I fill those for you?" She met his eyes, and he was struck by how intensely blue her's were. They were a shade that he had never seen before, but they reminded him of glaciers he had seen in pictures. He could tell that if she was angry they would be just as cold as those massive blocks of ice, but right then they were surprisingly warm.

He waved his hand at the objects she was asking for, but never broke eye contact with her. "Be my guest." She looked away and leaned across the table to grab the shakers. Her pony tail swung down over her shoulder and missed a dunk in his coffee by less than an inch. He reached out and grabbed her hair, placing it onto her back. His fingers traced her shoulder as he pulled his hand away, and she just stood frozen under his light touch.

"Um… thanks. I'll bring these right back." She swiftly turned away from him and scampered behind the counter. He continued to watch her as she shakily filled the containers and made her way back to him. She set them on the edge of the table instead of leaning over him again, and he was almost sorry that he had touched her. Only almost though. "Well, we're closing now. You better head out, before I have to throw you out." She looked up, and gave him a faint smile.

He didn't smile back, knowing that it was a grotesque sight, but his eyes lit up at her show of camaraderie. "Well doll, I don't think you _could_ throw me out, but I'll go all the same."

She smiled ironically at him, "OK then. Thanks." She started to walk away from him, but half turned back to look at him. "See you tomorrow?"

He stood up and walked to her side, pressing a five into her palm. "You've got yourself a date, beautiful." He turned and strode out the door before she could say anything to that.

**Please review! It really makes me work harder, plus it gets you chapters faster. I will update in a week for sure, but if I get five new reviews, then I will update faster. Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

**Well folks, I'm feeling generous today, and I decided to update even though I was one review shy of my requirement. I think that those of you that were kind of enough to share your thoughts with me deserve a reward, so here it is. I want to thank Hollydolly and the anonymous guest reviewer, you guys rock! Thank you to all of you that have read up to this point and especially those of you that have showed me some love. It means a lot to me! **

**OK, I won't bug you guys with another insanely long author's note. I hope you enjoy this chapter and that you will be so kind as to share your thoughts. Thanks!**

**Chapter Four - Shame**

_What we learned here is love tastes bitter when it's gone, Pass yourself forget the light, things look dirty when it's on, Funny how it comes to pass, that all the good slips away, And there's no one around you can remember being good to you_

_Shame, shouldn't try you, Couldn't step by you and open up more, Shame, shame, shame_

_What've we lost here is something better left alone, Second steps have been forgotten, will you tell me how they go, Set yourself, situate, like a fool try again, There's no one around you can remember being good, for you_

_So shame, shouldn't try you, Couldn't step by you and open up more, Shame, shame, shame_

_- Matchbox 20_

The phone ringing in the kitchen woke Madeline from a deep sleep on Sunday morning. Rob was snoring his hangover away, and didn't seem to be disturbed by the obnoxious noise that had awakened her. The phone stopped ringing, and she closed her eyes, hoping that she would drift back into the dream she had been enjoying. Unfortunately, the instant she closed her eyes the phone started up again. There was only one person that would be that persistent, and she knew there would be hell to pay if she didn't answer the damn thing.

She slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen, rubbing her arms to ward off the chill of the house. She answered the phone and stifled a yawn. "Hello, Doris."

"Were you sleeping? Its after eight!" Her mother-in-law's voice was full of contempt and mock horror.

Madeline sighed, knowing where the conversation was going before it even got started, yet she still felt compelled to justify herself. "Yeah, it was a late night at the diner. We were really busy."

She heard the women snort. "A girl like you, has no business working at a place like that. Especially at _night_. I just don't know why my Robbie lets you do it."

She rubbed her face in exasperation, her fingers digging into the still painful flesh on her cheek, making her wince. "Well, Mrs. Maroni, there aren't a lot of people hiring these days, and we need the money. I'm always looking for something better, though." It wasn't true, she never looked for anything else. The job at the diner paid terribly, and the work was not something she enjoyed, but it allowed her to stay away from _Robbie_ when he was often at his worst.

"Well you better not be working tonight, because we're coming for dinner." This was of course a regular thing, and Doris knew that Madeline would have to be at work by eight, but that never stopped the Maroni's from inviting themselves over for dinner two Sundays a month.

She walked to the fridge, the phone cord trailing behind her. "I'm sorry to say that I'm on the schedule tonight, so I'll have to head out a little before eight. It will be great to see you guys though." She forced a smile into her voice, in spite of the fact that the last people she wanted to see were her in-laws.

"We'll be there at five. Oh, and Sal wants steak tonight. Not like those ones you made last time either. Thick ones." She didn't bother saying goodbye, and the only noise that came to let Madeline know she was gone was the click on the other end.

She dropped the phone to her side, the buzzing of the dialtone carrying into the otherwise silent room. When she finally got around to opening the fridge she was greeted by an old jar of mustard, a jug of spoiled milk, and four beers. She sighed, knowing that there would be no going back to bed for her. She would need to go to the store in order to feed the Maroni clan, and the house would have to be spotless if she didn't want to catch hell from them all. Of course, Rob would be of no use. He would most likely stay in bed until a few minutes before his parents were supposed to arrive, then he would hop in the shower and come out looking clean and refreshed. It was how it always was, and she had come to expect it. There was no changing the way the world worked.

She pulled the jug of milk off the shelf and walked over to the sink, pausing to hang the phone back in the cradle before she poured the chunky fluid down the drain. She wrinkled her nose as the sour smell reached her, and then left the jug draining in the sink and walked back down the narrow hall into the bathroom. She turned the water on and waited until the steam started to rise in the cool room, then climbed in and let the hot water pour over her head, revelling in the warmth that instantly started settling in her bones. After a few moments of simple relaxation she added shampoo to her long hair and started scrubbing out any remaining grease from the diner. Though she showered every night after work, it seemed the the grease would sink into her pores in a rather parasitic way.

After she was satisfied that there was no more oil to be removed, she turned the water off and wrapped a towel around her wet frame. She slipped out of the bathroom and into the small bedroom, goosebumps appearing on her skin as soon as she exited the steamy bathroom. She dressed in a simple turtleneck and jeans, slipping Ugg knockoffs on her feet. She strode back into the bathroom and combed the tangles out of her hair, leaving it down to dry in its naturally wavy state. As a finishing touch she ran some sheer gloss over her lips and walked out of the bathroom.

She went back into the kitchen and looked at the bare cupboards with displeasure. She knew she didn't have the extra money to pay for their food for the week and the extravagant meal the Maroni's would be requiring. After a moment of thought she decided that the meal would consist of steak - thick cut, of course - salad, and risotto. Though she figured the risotto would probably fall short of the italian's high expectations, she also knew that rice was cheap and she could use the same wine that she would have to buy for them to drink in cooking it. All and all, it would have to do, because it was all she could afford.

She scribbled a note for Rob that she knew he would never get up to read, and walked out the door into a cold and blustery winter day in Gotham.

Jack pulled his scarf tighter around his face before making his way into the small corner market. He'd run out of ramen and crackers, so it was time to stock up again. He also thought he might get some oranges, it was the season for the sweet, juicy fruit, and a little vitamin C never hurt anybody. He grabbed a family pack of chicken ramen and a big box of saltines, fleshing out his spectacular meal plan with a couple of cans of beanie-weenies.

His feet did a little jig to the oldies music that played softly over the store speakers, and he headed toward the understocked produce department. He was testing oranges for ripeness when a familiar hand reached passed him to settle on an obviously under ripe specimen. He dropped the fruit he had been holding and swiftly reached out to grab the one she was reaching for. He tsked at her, snatching it out of her reach just before her fingers could close around it. "No, no, no… that one is nasty and inedible." His other hand picked up a juicy and ripe orange and forced it into her frozen hand. "This one is much better."

He looked down at the dark haired woman, his grin hidden by the black scarf across his face. She was obviously confused, but her eyes blazed with anger as well. "What the hell!" She only hissed at him, but her voice was full of venom. "Did it occur to you that I might _want_ that shity orange? Maybe I need it for a recipe."

He chuckled deep in his chest, the sound rumbling slightly in his throat. "Sure, doll. What ya' makin', Shity Orange Chicken?"

The confusion left her face, and the anger dissipated, though it didn't completely disappear. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" She dropped the ripe fruit and snached another yellow one before he could stop her.

"Well, if you must know; I actually eat more than one meal a day." He took the orange she had discarded and placed it in her cart on top of some particularly nice looking steaks. "You're having a party and you didn't invite me? I'm hurt." He looked in her eyes, feigning sadness in his, though his mouth was still grinning.

She looked down at the orange and added the one she had selected with an annoyed sigh. "For the record, I didn't invite anyone, but even if I had, I wouldn't have told you about it. I don't even know your name." She looked at him for a moment, waiting for his response, and when he didn't say anything she started in again. "Why are you wearing that thing it here? Its hotter than blazes in this store."

He was slightly taken aback by her question. Wasn't it obvious why he was covering up? He considered for a moment and almost ignored her, but thought better of it. "You may not have noticed, but my face..." he waved his hand at the area hidden by the fabric. "Well, most people find it rather _disturbing_."

She rolled her eyes and snorted, "Why should you care what other people think? That's their problem." She reached up and started to tug the scarf loose, but his hand jerked up and grabbed her wrist.

"That, uh, stays where it is, doll." His tongue darted around his lips in a frenzy. He looked at her speculatively, and noticed that she wasn't frightened by his abrupt movement to halt her. She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and her breath a little fast, but she definitely wasn't scared. Then he realized just how close together they were and that her body was pressing up to his just a little too intimately for the middle of a produce section. He dropped her arm and took a quick step back, causing her to drop her eyes and compose herself. He cleared his throat. "Tell you what, doll. You invite me to your little party and I promise I won't wear the scarf."

She chuckled, though it didn't contain much humor. "I don't think you would much like the company. And I still don't know your name."

He smirked, noticing that she was being awfully persistent in her attempt to get his name. "You can call me J."

She snorted at him and rolled her eyes again. "I can also call you Jackass, but considering the fact that neither of those are your name, I probably won't."

He barked with laughter - a sound that was just a little too maniacal - causing an older woman that had been inspecting the cucumbers with too much interest to glance over at them with a scowl. It took him a moment to get himself under control, but when he did he placed his hand on the woman's shoulder and grinned down at her, his eyes gleaming with mirth. "You, my dear, are too much!"

She was smiling faintly, but he could tell that she was also slightly uncomfortable with his little outburst. Somehow that just made it even funnier for him, and it was all he could do to stop himself from exploding with giggles again. "OK, new deal. You invite me to the party and I'll tell you my name _and_ leave the scarf off." He didn't really expect or want her to invite him over, but he was simply having too much fun trying to get her to agree.

The humor left her face the instant he brought it up again however, and the fun seemed to wane at the same time. "I already told you that you wouldn't like the company. It's just going to be my husband and my in laws."

His urge to laugh disappeared and was instantly replaced with anger. Though her bruises had faded some over the last few days, they were still painfully obvious and he hadn't forgotten how badly he wanted to beat the man that had inflicted the damage. His eyes narrowed dangerously and his voice was sinister. "Well, I think I would like that company very much, but I rather doubt they would like _me_ very much." The last word popped in an odd way, one of his eccentric little speech issues that he no longer tried to stop.

She nodded at him, her eyes calculating. "I think you know the truth of it then. In any case, you can't come." She turned away from him and made her way to the prepacked salads. She tossed a rather wilted looking bag of greens into her basket and started toward the checkout area. Just before she reached the nearest line she turned back to him, a grin filling her face.

"See you later, Jackass."

"Doris, Sal, how nice to see you guys." She smiled thinly at the older couple as they walked into the now spotless house. "Please, let me take your coats. Have a seat on the couch and I'll bring you both some wine." They dropped their wet coats in her outstretched arms without a word and settled on the couch, looking expectantly around the room.

Doris was the first to break the silence, "Where's my sweet little Robbie?"

"He's in the shower. He should be right out." The truth was that she had only just been able to get him out of bed five minutes earlier, and he was still slightly drunk. She hoped that he would have the good sense to take it slow while his parents were there, though she doubted that she would be that lucky.

She carried the coats into the bedroom, unceremoniously dropping them onto the bed. She noticed that the water was off in the shower and figured that it would only be a few seconds before Rob would make an appearance. She glanced in the mirror over the dresser to make sure that makeup still covered her face, effectively hiding Rob's work from the previous week, and then headed into the kitchen to get them all some wine.

Though she didn't usually drink, she could feel the craving coming on the moment her in laws had walked in the door. It was an effect they often had on her. She usually ignored it, but for some reason she didn't feel like she could that evening, in spite of the fact that it would make work a bit more challenging for her.

She pulled down four of the crystal goblets that Doris had given them at their wedding and filled them all liberally. As she carried two of them out to the awaiting couple she heard the bathroom door slam open and the heavy footsteps that foretold Rob's entrance. Just as she set the glasses on the coffee table, he made his entrance. A towel in his hand, rubbing at his still wet hair, and a handsome grin on his face. "Mom! Dad! I'm sorry I wasn't out here when you guys got here. I hope you weren't waiting long?" She had to admit that he could lay the charm on thick when he wanted to, and she supposed that was why she had started dating him in the first place, that and the movie star smile he was sporting right then.

Doris jumped up and crossed to her son, caressing his cheek and looking at him with worry. "Oh honey, you look so tired. Did you have to work again today?" Rob had insisted they not tell his parents that he had been fired from the docks over a month ago, and it was obvious that he had not changed his mind.

He nodded his head forlornly and looked away from his mother, "Yeah, they're really working me hard lately."

Sal looked sharply at his son, his eyes squinting with annoyance. "Its funny you say that, son. I asked Sergio if he had seen you down there, and he told me that he hasn't seen you in over a month." Rob looked at his father in surprise, and Madeline could see his face pale a couple of shades. Sal was always the smarter of Rob's parents and she wasn't surprised that he had asked after his son. "Why would that be, son?"

Rob walked over to his dad and shook his hand before answering. "Well Dad, I'm not sure." He screwed his face up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Sergio works on the West Side Dock, right?" Sal nodded, and Rob grinned triumphantly. "That explains it! I was transfered over to the East Side. They lost a couple of guys and needed someone with a strong mind and body."

Sal snorted with derision, "Then why on earth did they ask for you?" Sal could be a real bastard when he was in a mind to be, and it was obviously one of those times.

Madeline trotted back to the kitchen to get the other two cups, before she could get drawn into the debate. While she was there she thought it would be prudent to put the finishing touches on the salad and get the pan heating to cook the steaks. She pulled the greens out of the fridge, and drizzled a citrus dressing she had made with the orange she had selected over the contents of the bowl. She had to admit that the orange J had picked was much nicer and would probably make a tastier dressing, but she didn't want to waste it on the people she was serving tonight, so she had used the yellow orange instead. She then turned the stove on to heat the pan and checked the consistency of the risotto she had made earlier. She would only have to add a little more liquid and heat it right before she was going to serve dinner.

She was satisfied that the kitchen would be okay long enough for her to take Rob's wine to him when she heard him approaching from behind. She turned to face him, just as he reached her, murder in his eyes. "Did you tell my father about the docks." He hissed the words out between tightly clenched jaws.

She shook her head and reached behind her to get his glass of wine. "Of course not, baby. That's none of his business. I got your favorite wine to go with dinner. Two bottles…" She stopped when he pressed into her, making her spill a little of the wine on her red blouse.

His voice was husky and his hands reached out to grab her waist. "You know this shirt makes me hot, but you decide to wear it when my folks are over for dinner and I can't get to what's under it." He tugged the silk from the waistband of her jeans and slithered his hands up her sides. "Now why would you do something like that? Are you trying to tease me, Lynn?"

She had to repress the shudder that his hands on her skin caused. It had been years since she had felt even the faintest attraction to the man she was married to, and now she felt nothing short of repulsion. Though she hadn't consciously worn the shirt to tease him, she had to wonder if she had done so without even realising it. Not really to be a tease, but to make sure the shirt made an appearance, and on an occasion when she knew he wouldn't be able to make a move. She let out a shaky breath and put her hands on his arms. "I'm sorry baby. I wasn't thinking of that. I just remembered that your mother gave it to me, and I thought it would make her happy to see me wear it." She ran her hands up and down his arms in an affectionate manner, in spite of the fact that it disgusted her.

His eyes were heavy lidded and he bent to kiss her fiercely on the lips, his tongue darting into her mouth like a hungry serpent. She tried to kiss him back, but didn't do a very good job of it. When he broke off the kiss she tried to look embarrassed and gave him a nervous chuckle. "Your parents are in the other room, and I'm sure they're wondering where we went."

"I don't give a shit what they're thinking. _I'm_ thinking that I should put you up on this counter and fuck you right here." His hands started to unbutton her blouse and it was all she could do to stop from pawing his hands away. She forced her eyes tightly closed to halt the scared and angry tears that threatened to fall.

He had gotten all but two of the buttons undone when they were interrupted by the sound of Doris calling out to them. "Is everything OK in there? Do you need some help?" It was an empty offer, but thankfully it broke Rob's focus and he dropped his hands from her.

"We're going to finish this when you get home tonight, and I want you to put this shirt back on for me." He picked up his wine and sauntered out of the kitchen without another word. With shaking hands Madeline picked up her wine and downed it in three gulps, before she did the buttons back up on her blouse. She refilled the cup and turned back to the hot pan, placing the steaks on the cast iron with a sizzle.

**Please show me some love and follow, favorite, or review. Especially the review part. They really make my day and every time I get one I write a little more and a little faster. Remember that the more reviews I get the faster I update, so it benefits you guys too. Its a win win situation! Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**First off I want to thank Tracey and Guest, for their kind reviews. They made me super happy and made me work harder on this chapter and the next one. Thank you both so very much. **

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter Five- All These Things That I've Done**

_Another head aches, another heart breaks, I am so much older than I can take, And my affection, well it comes and goes, I need direction to perfection, no no no no_

_Help me out, Yeah, you know you got to help me out, Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner, You know you got to help me out_

_And when there's nowhere else to run, Is there room for one more son, These changes ain't changing me, The cold-hearted boy I used to be_

_- The Killers_

"There wasn't anyone in the city that was willing to take your bet, but Mr. Vinella was kind enough to do it, in spite of your poor track record. He was even willing to give you a payment extension when your horse lost, but his patience is wearing thin." Jack stood in front of his first victim, a tall and thick man that had obviously spent the better part of his life engaged in hard physical labor. The man wouldn't be a victim if he paid the money that was owed to Jack's employer, but it didn't seem like a great prospect based upon the rundown look of the man and the substantial amount he owed Mr. Vinella.

The man was shaking slightly in fear, in spite of the fact that he was larger, and most likely stronger than Jack. He was used to the response most people had to him, especially when he was angry or threatening them in some way. He just had that effect on people, and had for years. "I.. I don't have all the money for him. I ne-ne-need a little more time."

Jack popped his mouth and sighed sadly. "I'm sorry to hear that. You see, _I'm_ a patient man, but well, _Mr. Vinella_ isn't. I have explicit instructions to, uh, take what's owed to him; either in cash or in blood. So… I guess this time it will be in _blood_." He smiled sinisterly, his head dipping down to glance at the knife clenched in his gloved hand.

His head jerked back up when the man spoke again, this time without any fear. "You're right about one thing, son. There will be blood tonight, but it won't be mine." Jack caught the man's eye as it jerked to something behind him an instant before he heard a sickening crack, and his head exploded with pain. Most men would have fallen to the ground unconscious after a hit like the one he had just received, but he was not most men, and this wasn't the first time he had been cracked in the head with a bat.

Instead of collapsing he started laughing maniacally, and was pleased to see just how unnerving it was for the two men. "That HURT!" He was swaying slightly on his feet, but he remained upright, the sharp blade still in his hand. "I _like_ that!" He snarled, before his arm shot out and gripped the man that had hit him around the neck. His knife moved up and he lightly caressed the large man's carotid artery, careful to avoid puncturing the skin.

He shifted his eyes to the man he had come for. "Sergio, Sergio, Sergio, you disappoint me. The boss is going to be so mad when I tell him you're dead. He'll probably even insist that _I_ pay the money you owed, but… a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do." He didn't shift his eyes from Sergio when he felt a gun sticking into his side, he just flicked his wrist, slitting the other man's throat. The blood instantly started to flow over his gloved fingers, and he could feel the man begin to slouch in his grip. He let go and the man slumped to the ground, gurgling on his own blood.

Jack rounded on his prey, leaving the other man for dead. Though Sergio was only a few feet away, he took his time getting to him. He waved the blood stained blade in front of his face and leered. "You wanna know how I got these scars?"

"Um… no." Sergio smiled coldly. "I want to give you some new ones." There was a crash of thunder, but no lightning, and then Jack's stomach felt as though it had been filled with molten lava, and he briefly doubled over in pain. The short second that he was distracted by the pain was enough for his quarry to flee, and Jack snarled in rage.

He called after him, clutching his side to staunch the bleeding. "See you soon, Sergio!"

When the man was out of sight Jack opened his coat and looked at his blood stained shirt. "Damn… I'll need a new shirt." He giggled slightly, in spite of the pain it caused, and took his knife to the red and dripping fabric, cutting it from the area that hurt the worst. He was pleased to see the clean flesh wound in his side, knowing immediately that it hadn't hit any organs, and that if he got the bleeding stopped he wouldn't suffer any lasting damage from the encounter. He wadded up the torn fabric from his shirt and shoved it into the deep and ragged tear in his side, hissing in pain and dancing a little jig. Then, holding pressure on the wound, he started off on the long walk back to his motel room, just hoping that the rest of the night wouldn't be such a pain in the ass.

* * *

After nearly three hours of arguing, four glasses of wine, and a fight that had almost ended in a fistfight between Rob and his father, Madeline was finally headed to the diner. Her head was swimming and her stomach had angry butterflies swarming around, but she still managed to put one foot in front of the other as she walked down the sidewalk. She had known that she should stop drinking after the first glass of wine, but after the interlude with her _lovely_ husband, she hadn't been able to pass on a second. Two glasses would have been plenty if the Maroni's had just kept their comments regarding the meal to themselves, but after the fifth time someone had said she was a lousy cook the wine bottle had beckoned to her yet again. She had poured her last glass while Sal and Rob stood toe to toe and Doris wailed at them to stop. That one had been merely celebratory, but by then she wasn't really worried about how much she was drinking.

Now that she was being forced to deal with the consequences however, she was rather regretting her foolish binge. She knew she was going to be late for work, and her stumbling gait and the need for frequent stops was not helping. She had never gone to work drunk, and when she started to think about it she could only wonder how she was going to make it through the night without falling down, dumping someone's dinner in their lap, or throwing up. Especially the throwing up part; she had already had to choke back the urge twice and she was only halfway to work.

The warm glow emanating from the diner windows could clearly be seen when she stopped once again, her hands on her knees and her head hanging. She had her eyes tightly squeezed shut, trying to stop the spinning of the earth for just moment.

"There you are." A deep voice called out from the shadows to her right, forcing her head up with a jerk. At first she didn't see anything, but then there was a slow movement from the shadows and she realized that it was J.

She took a deep breath and placed her hand over her churning stomach. "You trying to scare me to death?" She took a wobbly step towards him, but then decided to stay where she was and just wait for him to come to her. The fear was already being replaced by irritation at him for scaring her, and the fact that she was a little tipsy didn't help her self control. Once he reached her, she swung her fist out and knocked him lightly on the shoulder. "Why the hell are you out here waiting for me? Couldn't you have one of the other girls take your order, and bring you your dinner?"

He stared intently at her for a moment, his tongue darting out to lick his scars in the peculiar way he had. "_You_. Are. _Drunk_." The word drunk came out as more of a snarl than a word, but she knew what he was saying and it both embarrassed her and made her furious. Who was he to make judgements about her?

"I yam not!" She was slightly mortified by the fact that she had actually slurred her words, only confirming what he had said. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question." She waggled her finger in front of his face trying to chastise him for ignoring her questions all the time, but he caught her wrist and pulled it away from his face with a slight growl.

"Yes you are." His voice was tired, but she could tell that he was irritated with her as well. "And for the record, I don't _like_ any of the other girls."

She considered that for a second, "You like me?"

He sighed and dropped her wrist. "At this moment? No, not really." He licked his lips again, and looked at her speculatively. "Can you sew?"

She pulled back from him, a confused frown filling her face. "What?"

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her as if she were a rather stupid child. "It was a simple question. Can you sew? You know, a needle and thread?" He mimed the motions of pulling a needle through fabric in the air in front of her face.

She was even more confused. How had the conversation switched to sewing? Had she blacked out for a moment? She didn't think so, but the conversation wasn't making any sense to her anyway. "Um… yeah. I'm not very good, but I understand the principle."

He grinned down at her, his scars extending the smile to ghastly proportions, and lightly grabbed her upper arm. "Good. Come on."

She tried to resist following him, but her feet weren't really cooperating. "Hey! I have to go to work."

He stopped and looked back at her. "Trust me, you'll thank me later. You show up like this and you're probably getting fired." He paused, noting her troubled look. "You can call in sick from my place." He started to lead her down the street away from the diner once again.

She felt the blood drain from her face at the thought, Rob would kill her if he found out she had gone to another man's house. "I… I can't go to your place. I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not the kind of woman that runs off with random men."

He stopped once more, and turned back on her with a snarl. He pulled his jacket open and she was suddenly aware of the blood dripping off of him; the smell hitting her and making her stomach fight all the more violently. "I need you to sew me up, not screw me. Now can we _please_ get on our way? This hurts like hell."

Though the scent of blood had sent her stomach to lurching like a stick shift car being driven by a first time driver, it also lifted a bit of the drunken fog that had been hanging over her. She could see by the amount of blood that had gathered on his clothing that the injury was serious. She had grown up in the Narrows, and her father had been part of the mob before he messed with the wrong man late one night. The sight of blood and the reasons for cuts and bruises were nothing new to her. A lifetime of experience told her everything she needed to know about the situation, and why J hadn't made a beeline for the hospital. She had been able to tell that he was most likely a dangerous man the first time she laid eyes on him, and it didn't particularly surprise her to see that he had gotten into some trouble. It did surprise her that he had gotten into _that much_ trouble already.

She knew that Rob would kill her if she went with J, and she figured that if the person that had done this found out she had helped him they would most likely be after her as well. The mobs of Gotham didn't much like the _helpful_ people out there. She was also aware that if J had any other options he would have probably sought them out instead of her. Afterall, he didn't really know her, and she didn't particularly scream emergency medical technician. For some reason as she weighed her options her mind drifted back to the moments in the kitchen with Rob, and the revulsion she felt made up her mind.

"I hope you know that you're probably going to get me killed." She looked him in the eye while she spoke, and her tone was completely serious. "If I'm going to risk my life for you, then you have to tell me your name."

She could feel his eyes studying her intently, even though she couldn't see them in the shadows. "You're not going to get killed on my watch, but if it makes you feel better, I'll tell you my name after you fix this." He waved his hand at his side for emphasis, and grabbed her wrist again with bloody fingers. "Now, come on."

She let him pull her down the sidewalk without hesitation this time, and she could only wonder what she was getting herself into.

* * *

Jack sat on the edge of the bed, a small smile playing across his lips as he watched the woman assess the damage to his side. She was chewing on her lower lip and her eyes were squinted intently while her fingers lightly probed the edges of his ragged flesh. Even her light touches sent stabbing pain through his body, but he held completely still. He was no stranger to pain, and this was not the worst injury he had ever received. In truth, by that point his head was actually hurting worse than his side, but they both dimmed in comparison to the pain he had felt the night he had gotten his permanent grin.

His thoughts were broken when Madeline rose to her feet and looked at him speculatively. "I don't know if stitching is going to work. The flesh all around it is pretty torn up, and I think stitches will most likely just pull out." She crouched back down and gently pinched the two edges together, causing him to hiss slightly. "I think I can probably fashion an oversized butterfly bandage and that should hold it without the risk of tearing it even further." She reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, leaving a faint smear of his blood on her cheek. "Do you have first aid supplies here?"

He nodded, and started to rise to get the kit he had in his bag. "They're over there." He was surprised when she shot to her feet and roughly pushed him back down on the bed.

"You stay where you are. I only just got the bleeding slowed down, and I don't want you moving around setting it off again." Her voice was calm, but authoritative and it lacked any trace of the drunkenness she had shown before. He detested alcohol and what it did to people, so he was relieved to see that she had sobered up so quickly.

He grabbed the bloodstained towel they had used to halt his bleeding, and reapplied it to his injury, holding pressure to assure it wouldn't start seeping again. "Its in my bag. On the top right I think." He indicated where his bag was on the floor with his head and she walked straight to it.

After a moment of searching she pulled the black, canvas bag with a white cross on it out and turned back to him. "I hope this has more than bandaids in it."

He snorted and grinned his trademark smile. "See for yourself." He waved his hand impatiently at her, wanting to see her expression when she saw what he had packed into the innocent looking bag. He wasn't disappointed when her eyes went wide and she gasped at his miniaturized emergency room, reverently beginning to pull things from the case.

"This is incredible. How did you fit all of this in here?" She had already pulled out the bottle of sterile saline and a gauze pad, and he knew that he was in for a whole new world of pain. There was nothing quite like cleaning a deep wound to remind a person of what their pain tolerance really is.

He waited until she was sitting sideways on the narrow bed beside him, and pouring the saline on his torn flesh before he responded. His voice was husky from the pain, but talking helped distract him. "It is simply a matter of, hmm, organization. You just have to think about how things go together and make it into a puzzle." He had to stop his explanation when she started after him with the gauze. Instead, he watched her long fingers deftly remove the bits of dried blood, lint, and strings from his shirt out of the wound.

It took her a few moments before she seemed satisfied, and as she rose to her feet once more to get the butterfly closures he realized that she must have some experience in these kinds of situations. "So, who does your husband work for?"

She turned back to him, a confused frown on her face, and her fingers poised over the medical supplies. "Excuse me?"

"You have obviously done this before, and based on the reason for your reluctance to help me, I can only assume your husband is the one who comes home banged up on occasion. So… who does he work for?"

She chuckled and shook her head, grabbing two large butterflies along with a square of gauze and some tape. "Hardly. Rob is a coward and doesn't like to get his hands dirty with the, hmm… messy side of the business. That's something he leaves to his dad, and his cousins. No, I have never had to clean a bullet wound on my husband, or anything else for that matter. His forte is drinking with his friends, not running with Falcone's ghouls. I learned the finer points of wound care from my father."

She had managed to get the butterflies on him and was already working on positioning the bandage by the time she finished talking. He knew that she had no idea how much she had just told him, and he was thankful that she hadn't realized it. Now he knew her husband's name, along with the fact that his family was connected with the mob. It went a long way to explaining why she remained with the man even though he beat her. He had been confused by that before; she seemed strong and capable which didn't fit with her staying in a violent relationship. Now he knew that she was also smart, and that she weighed her options instead of just doing things.

He realized that she had said something when he saw her looking up at him expectantly, her fingers resting lightly on his bare stomach beside the now covered wound. He shook his head to clear the dull ache that was clouding his mind. "What, doll?"

"I said that I'm all done, but that you'll need to keep an eye on it. You should probably get some antibiotics in your system too. That would be a nasty place to have infected." Her eyes were filled with concern and he noticed that she still hadn't withdrawn her hand from his skin. He stared down at her face, noting that her full lips were slightly parted and that there was a heat mixed with the concern in her eyes. He felt her thumb move across his stomach minutely. It could have simply been a twitch, but somehow he knew it wasn't; that she had wanted to feel more of his skin. Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled closer to her, something far from chast on his mind.

He was mere inches from her face when she jerked her hand away from him and leapt to her feet. She crossed back to the desk where his first aid case lay, and began trying to zip it closed with shaking hands. "I-I have to go. Rob will wonder where I am if I don't get home at the regular time." The zipper had jammed and she was roughly jerking it, tears forming in her eyes.

Jack stood from the bed and slowly walked over to her, gently pulling the bag from her hands. "Easy, doll." He zipped the bag the rest of the way, and set it back on the desk, before lightly cupping her cheek and turning her face toward his. "Why go back at all?"

She started laughing, the hysteria in it making him a little nervous. He kept his hand on her cheek and felt a warm wetness touch his thumb. "I have to go. Rob is waiting up tonight."

"Screw him."

She chuckled quietly, it was humorless, but no longer hysterical. "That's just about the stone skinny of it." She leaned into his hand for an instant, and he could feel her take a deep breath against his wrist, smelling him. He thought it was a rather strange thing for her to do, but he found it incredibly erotic all the same. Then she pulled away from him, grabbed her jacket and made her way to the door. "See you around."

The door was already open and she was halfway out of it, when he called after her. "Wait. We had a deal." She paused and turned back to him, the door still open with her foot in the hallway. "My name, remember?" She nodded, but didn't say anything. "It's Jack. My name is Jack."

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you will be kind enough to share your thoughts with me. Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Hello hello my wonderful readers! I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of reviews, favorites, and follows I got. I am so happy that so many of you are enjoying this story, and I have to tell you all just how much you guys mean to me. You are all so amazing, and I feel deeply thankful to each and every one of you! I especially want to than the guest reviewers, because I can't thank you personally. Your reviews were wonderful, and I just wish I was able to send you a message to thank you. **

**Sorry this update is a day late! I couldn't find a good breaking point, so this chapter ended up being extra long. Obviously that made it take a little longer to write, but I worked extra hard to get it out to you guys today so it wouldn't be super late. I will try harder to stick to my schedule now, and plan for longer chapters if they occur. I apologize to any of you that were counting on this yesterday!**

**OK, enough out of me! Enjoy!**

**Chapter Six - Shake it Off**

_Regrets collect like old friends, Here to relive your darkest moments, I can see no way, I can see no way, And all of the ghouls come out to play_

_And every demon wants his pound of flesh, But I like to keep some things to myself, I like to keep my issues drawn, It's always darkest before the dawn_

_And I've been a fool and I've been blind, I can never leave the past behind, I can see no way, I can see no way, I'm always dragging that horse around_

_- Florence + The Machine_

Madeline sat on a cold, wooden park bench, an empty paper cup clutched in her icy hands, and her eyes watching the passing people. The morning was cold and few people were pausing at the small park in the Narrows, but she had come there to enjoy the morning sun. She was rarely awake to see the sunrise, but seeing as she had never gone to sleep the night before she was able to take the time to enjoy one of her favorite moments in Gotham. She loved to see the sun break over the city, covering the grime and the ugliness of the city in a soft golden glow for one short moment. She had been lying in bed for hours, just listening to Rob's heavy breathing and wishing she had never come home, when she noticed the darkness changing outside. She had slipped out from between the sheets and dressed simply in a sweatshirt and jeans, and then she had silently left the house.

The city was still cloaked in darkness when she had arrived and bought coffee from a man selling it out of a cart at the edge of the tiny park. She had then claimed the only bench in the area for herself and watched the shadows begin to appear, and the sky change colors. No one else had been out and about at that point, so it almost felt like she was alone in the world as the sun finally broke through the haze and coated the buildings in its beautiful light.

In that instant it had been easy to forget everything that had happened the night before. She could set aside the blood and pain she had witnessed with Jack, and could even forget laying under her husband while he pumped away when she had arrived home. The promise that the early morning sunlight held was enough to make her happy, and that was why she had come to the park. She needed what little joy she could get in her life.

It was now two hours after the sunrise and she still hadn't left the bench. Her coffee was long gone and the chill in the air had firmly settled in her bones. She knew that she should get back home, but couldn't seem to find the will to do so. She was watching a women try to herd her three small children down the sidewalk when someone sat down beside her on the bench. She really didn't feel like company, and started to rise, taking it as a sign that she should go home.

She hadn't gotten more than a couple inches up off the bench when a gloved hand held a steaming cup out to her. She jerked her head to the side, and saw the familiar scarf hiding the man's face. Above it were those warm eyes that she found so compelling and yet equally conflicting. She knew that she really should leave since it was Jack, and it could only spell trouble for her if she spent more time with him, but instead she lowered herself back onto the bench and took the offered cup.

She didn't look at him or say anything, just took a sip of the hot coffee instead. It seemed that Jack was willing to let her enjoy the silence, and he didn't speak for the next few minutes. She was thankful for his patience, but it also made her nervous. He shouldn't be able to tell that much about her yet, and the fact that he could made her uncomfortable. Finally, after several minutes had passed, with her deeply thinking about how her life had suddenly gotten so complicated, she spoke. "Thanks." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, but she knew he would hear her.

She could feel him shift on the bench and knew that he wanted her to look at him, but she just couldn't do that right then. He huffed a quiet sigh, his breath turning into mist in the cold air in front of them. "You're welcome." They were quiet again for a few moments, just drinking their coffee and savoring the silent company. "How long have you been here?"

She shrugged her shoulders, still not looking over at him. "A couple hours, I guess."

"Its a little cold for sitting in the park that long, don't you think?"

She finally turned to look at him, seeing that he was smirking at her, his scarf down so he could drink the coffee. She smiled back at him slightly. "Its worth it, to see the sunrise."

He grinned at her mischieviously. "I hate to break it to you, doll. If you're waiting for the sunrise it won't be for another…" he paused to look down at the watch on his wrist, "21 hours." She looked at him sceptically. "By then you're likely to freeze to death."

She snorted at him, "I already watched it this morning, you goof. You don't always have to be such a joker, you know."

He bowed at her slightly, the grin still on his face. "But it's what I do best, my dear."

She found her eyes drawn to his lips, and the words came out of her mouth completely unbidden. "I doubt that." Her voice was slightly breathless, and she could already feel the heat coming to her cheeks.

His grin turned into a slightly sinister smirk and his tongue slipped out to lick his lower lip suggestively. "I guess we could find out."

For a moment Madeline really wished she could find out what his lips felt like, but she cleared the thought from her mind, knowing it was pointless to wish for something like that. "I don't think so, Jack." She waved her left hand at him, the sunlight glinting off the small diamond on her finger.

"Why'd you marry him?"

She sighed, not feeling terribly surprised by the question, but wanting to avoid it nonetheless. "Its a long story, and I don't really want to talk about it today."

He nodded, a serious look on his face. "How about tomorrow?"

She looked away from him and took another drink of her coffee. "Its not really a story I can tell while I'm working, and the diner is the only place I should be seeing you. There are a lot of eyes and ears in the Narrows, and Rob wouldn't be happy if he knew I was spending time with another man." She knew that he would actually be livid, and would probably go a little too far if he found out that she really was hanging around another man. Especially Jack.

That thought suddenly reminded her of what Rob had told her the night before, and she felt a slight chill run up her spine. She looked back at the man beside her, knowing that he was most likely the last person in Gotham she should be seen with. "You shouldn't have killed that guy last night."

Jack's eyes widened slightly in surprise, before he plastered a look of innocence on his face instead. "Whatcha talkin' bout, doll."

She sighed, knowing that he knew exactly what she was referring too, so she ignored the question and continued. "His name was Mitch, and he was pretty tied to the Falcones. You messed with the wrong guys last night, and they'll be looking for you now."

His laugh startled her, and her head jerked up to see that he honestly was pleased to hear what she had said. "Good. I still need to collect ten grand from that Sergio guy. It'll save me a lot of work if he just comes to me."

"You don't understand. They're going to kill you when they find you."

He chuckled darkly at that and his eyes seemed to almost turn black. "They can try, but I'm pretty hard to kill."

She shook her head sadly. "I hope you're right." She stood from the bench, but turned to look back at him. "Thanks for the coffee. I have to get home now." She started away from him, but stopped a few feet down the sidewalk, looking over her shoulder at his now covered face. "Please be careful."

* * *

The sun was setting, painting his room with a rather macabre glow, and creating indistinguishable shadows on the walls of Jack's room while he sat silently reading. It was a pastime he had picked up as a small child, and he still found it to be one of his favorites. At least one of his favorites that he could do alone. The book he was currently reading would most likely be considered trash by most literary minded people, but it was one of his all time top reads. Nothing like a demon clown terrorizing a town to get the blood pumping and the mind racing. However, even reading his favorite book wasn't keeping his attention at that point. He found his mind kept shifting to the brief interaction he'd had with his waitress that morning.

He was impressed and rather surprised by her obvious concern for him, though he couldn't imagine why she would feel that way. It wasn't as if they really knew one another - she was most definitely making that rather impossible - nor had he done anything for her to warrant such good will. He had, in fact, only made her life more difficult, and potentially more dangerous. Logically, she should rather detest him, but she didn't, and that rather pleased him. There was one glaring problem with their relationship, however; there was no way it could continue. As long as she was tied to the mob, she would be majorly off limits. Of course, Jack had never been very fond of limits or rules, and had never been able to follow them, but he did plan to try for her sake.

He tried to push the thoughts of her away, and continue to read, but after reading the same paragraph five times without any memory of what it said, he decided it was pointless. He let out an annoyed growl and slammed the book shut, rising to his feet and grabbing his coat and scarf, before heading to the door. He viciously wrapped the scarf around his face, before he ripped the door open, only to be greeted by an unexpected and rather unwelcome sight in the hall.

Standing in his doorway was Tiffany, an unusually attractive young prostitute that Jack had foolishly invited to his room on his second night at the hotel. He liked hookers; they all lied, but you always knew what you were dealing with, so it didn't bother him. Plus, it was generally not a problem if you had no interest in seeing them again. Unfortunately this girl was young and beautiful, and obviously still held hopes that some random guy would sweep her off her feet to live in a white castle somewhere. And unfortunately for him, she had decided he was that guy. She was a sweet girl, and he wished her the best, but he was not that man; for her or anyone else for that matter.

"Hey baby. Where have you been? I've been waiting for you every night, but you haven't showed up…" She reached out and lightly fingered the lapel on his wool coat. Her wide brown eyes staring up into his, with her hurt and hope apparent.

Jack shifted uncomfortably under her touch, and tried to think of an easy way to defuse the situation. "Well hello there beautiful." He tried to speak kindly, but there was obviously something off in his tone, since she pulled her hand away from him, and her look showed infinitely less hope. He took a step into the hall, crowding her slightly and forcing her to retreat further away from his door. "You see, I've, uh, been _quite_ busy. I would have looked for you last night, but I didn't think you would want to get my _blood_ on your pretty little fingers. Might be bad for business…"

She gasped, and took another step away from him, her hand raising to her mouth in horror. "Are… are you alright?" Her voice was hardly above a whisper, and she had become palpably fearful at that point. It hadn't been his intention to scare her, but now that she was afraid he kind of liked it. That wasn't a characteristic he was particularly proud of, but he greatly enjoyed fear in others nonetheless.

He pulled the door closed behind him, before continuing to stalk her down the dim hallway. "Me? Oh, I'm spectacular, _but-ttt_ I don't know that the same will be true for you if you keep hanging around my door, Tiffy. You see… _the mob_ is after me now, and I'd _hate_ for them to think you were my squeeze…" His voice had become oddly singsong while he spoke the last part, and his way of putting unnecessary inflection on words that didn't need them was in full force.

Her eyes went wide and she began to back away from him as if he carried some incurable disease. "Oh… oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. I, uh, really liked you baby, but I can't stick around if you're in trouble with the Falcones. My pimp works for them, and all… Sorry." She turned away from him, and all but ran down the hall, her short brown hair bouncing jovially around her thin shoulders.

Once she had disappeared down the stairs he collapsed against the wall beside the door, and released a shaky sigh. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry, but a giggle bubbled up regardless of what he wanted. After a moment he straightened and followed her down the stairs, a sinister giggle still echoing through the corridor.

It was past time that he got out there to thank Sergio for his new scar.

* * *

Madeline was completely exhausted, but judging by her tips, she was doing a fairly good job of hiding it. She had tried to take a nap that afternoon, but Rob's snoring had kept her wide awake. That and thoughts of her morning in the park, and what Jack had said to her. She had to admit she admired his bravado, but also felt it was foolish. She of all people knew the power of Gotham's mob, and rather doubted a single man would stand a chance against them. Her father sure hadn't survived them, and he wasn't even really trying to go against them. Of course, she didn't know that Jack was either. He was working for Mr. Vinella, and he was most definitely deeply tied to the Falcones and everyone else in the mob. He wasn't really part of the mob, however, just tightly knotted within the group without being a true part of them. That would indicate a similar mindset from Jack, but she doubted very much it would help him if he met up with any Falcones' men in the near future.

It was already eleven and she had expected Jack to be there earlier that evening. He had made it rather clear that he didn't plan on leaving her alone like he probably should. She couldn't say exactly how that made her feel; on one hand she was happy to know that he would continue coming around, but on the other she knew it would only end badly. She was married to Rob, and would stay that way until one of them died, and that situation didn't leave her a lot of room to make friends with mysterious, and dangerous men.

However, as time continued to tick by, and eleven was replaced by midnight on the clock, she found that she was getting pretty irritated with him. He was making her worry, and that was a feeling she rather detested, and hadn't felt in years. In the last hour her tips had taken a nose dive, and she knew it wasn't because she was tired. It was because she was too distracted watching the clock and the door to pay much attention to her customers.

That point was illustrated when she was staring at the clock and walked by one of her booths at exactly 12:05. One of the men reached out and roughly grabbed her arm, stopping her abruptly and making her drop her order pad on the floor. She rounded on the man with a rage filled look on her face, only to find equally dark eyes glaring back at her.

"I've asked you nicely for ketchup three times, and you haven't brought it. Now, I don't give a shit what your excuse is, but if you don't have a bottle of ketchup on this table in thirty seconds I'm going to recolor the left side of your face for you." She had covered her fading bruise, but this guy was a regular and had obviously seen it when it was in full glory.

She was livid, both for the way he was reacting, but also because she had no memory of him asking for ketchup at all. It didn't help the situation that she was about ready to go out and kill Jack herself for making her worry so much, and that she was so far beyond tired she was no longer seeing straight. So, instead of trying to defuse the situation and be courteous, she spun out of the man's grasp and grabbed the red bottle off of the table across from the men. She then spun back on her heel and sprayed the man full in the face. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just get the damn bottle yourself?" She asked, flinging the still oozing ketchup on the table and striding around the counter while the whole diner gaped at her. She figured she would lose her job for the little stunt, but for that one moment it felt worth it.

The diner was completely filled with silence for at least a minute, and then it suddenly erupted with clapping and cheers. She could hear a few calls of "Nice work," and "Teach that jerk some manners," but for the most part is was just whooping. She was completely dumbstruck for a moment, and then she smiled faintly and waved at the crowd, before ducking down the back hall to compose herself. While she was there she missed the three men striding out and throwing murderous looks at the hall she was hiding in, but she heard the cheering crescendo, and figured that must be why.

She waited another moment to allow everyone to calm down before she went out and began clearing the table. She was unsurprised to find that they had stiffed her on the bill, but she didn't really care; she would happily pay their bill with her tips. She could only hope that the overwhelming support she had received from the crowd would be enough to let her keep her job.

She was relieved when the night manager came out a few minutes later, only to be greeted by everyone trying to tell him at once what a wonderful waitress she was, and that the guy she had smothered in ketchup was a jerk that deserved it. In the end he had taken her aside after the diner closed and explained that he could have fired her for not coming in the night before, or for what she had done just a little while earlier, but that because she had always been an exemplary employee before, he was willing to let it slide this once. He was, however, docking her pay for both nights. She figured it was a good trade off and wasn't unhappy with the decision.

After her little reprimand she felt like she should pay extra attention to her cleaning and prepping duties, so she wound up staying a little late that night, and it was well after one when she finally walked out of the old diner. She had only made it about 100 yards down the sidewalk when she heard a slight scuffling noise and turned to look up the same alley she had found Jack lurking in the night before. She was winding up to give him what for because he had worried her, just knowing it was him again, but it wasn't him, and she didn't realize that until it was too late. What gave it away was the swift and hard backhand to her right cheek. For an instant she knew that her eyeball had popped, but as she stumbled back from the person that had inflicted the damage, she realized it was highly unlikely, even if it did feel that way. Her eyes were watering too heavily for her to see who was coming after her, but she knew without seeing. The aroma of tomato was heavy enough to give it away, that and the laughter of the other two men from the table.

She was so intent on getting out of the man's grasp that she forgot to pay attention to her surroundings, and fell heavily to the pavement when she stumbled over the curb behind her. The air left her in a whoosh, and as she lay gasping, she felt a large hand grab her by the neck. Though the bruise Rob had left was nearly completely faded, the flesh was still tender, and she she would have gasped from the pain if she had any air to do so. Instead, she flailed pointlessly against the man's iron grip, and fought for enough air to call out for help. She felt herself being pulled into the darkness of the alley and struggled harder against him, but only managed to stumble around.

Once they were in the dimly lit alley she struggled to see her captors face, but was only able to clearly see his eyes, and she knew that the amount of rage they held was not in proportion to her crime. He shook her slightly, and then addressed her in a deeply malicious voice. "I really don't like being embarrassed, and you did a right fine job of doing just that." His hand flashed out and struck her cheek again, causing her to squeak in surprise and pain, using what little air she had managed to get into her lungs around his firm grasp. "You used to be a good waitress, but something has come over you the last couple of days, and I don't like it. Someone needs to teach you some manners."

His hand swung back once more, but stopped when a new voice echoed off of the walls in the alley. "Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta gentlemen, I have a proposition for you, and I think you will want to hear it." Madeline recognized the voice as belonging to Jack, and instantly felt relief fill her. Though she rather doubted they would walk away from the encounter unscathed, she did feel like her chances of walking away alive had grown exponentially.

The ketchup coated man neither dropped his arm, nor eased his grip on her neck, but he did turn his head to look at Jack as he slowly ambled toward the small group. "Make it fast buddy, we're busy teaching this little bitch some manners."

She could see Jack's head dip and the most sinister smile she had ever seen covered his bare face. He looked around the area curiously, as if he was searching for something. "I don't see any dogs around here, so I can only assume you are referring to the lady there." He gestured at her, and Madeline could see a faint glint of moonlight on metal in his hand, though it didn't seem like anyone else noticed it.

"Of course I mean _the lady_. She just covered me in ketchup, and she needs to learn not to treat people like that." He shook her again for emphasis, and she could feel her mind beginning to slip from lack of oxygen.

Jack laughed maniacally and it brought Madeline back to the present long enough to see that he had gotten within a yard of her when he next spoke through his giggles. "Red is such a good color on you! I'm sure she was just trying to help. Now, I had a proposition for you, did I not?"

The grip around her neck loosened slightly and she could smell nervous sweet in the air all of a sudden. "Well, um, OK… What's your idea?"

Jack moved as quick as lightning and before anyone could react he had a knife to the man's neck and his jaw in a vicious clamp. Her captor instantly dropped her neck and reached for Jack's arm instead. "My _proposition_ is… you all walk away right now, and… I won't paint you all red with your own blood." He paused, his eyes glancing up at the sky while his tongue flicked out to touch the scar at the left corner of his mouth. "Well, not tonight anyway." He started cackling again, causing his arm to shake and the blade to dig in to the other man's flesh slightly.

One of his friends spoke up, grabbing her attacker's arm and trying to slowly pull him from Jack's grasp. "Hey man, he weren't looking for no trouble. Gary just wanted to have a little talk with the girl. Tell her that she shouldn't have done what she did. You know? We weren't going to hurt her, really. Honest."

Jack nodded slowly, not reducing the blade's pressure on his prey. "Tell her that you're sorry and be on your way then, _Gary_." He forced Gary's face back to look at her and she could see the fear in his eyes.

"I'm sorry miss. We didn't mean to bother you." Though terror made his voice shake and the whites were visible all around his eyes, she could also sense a deep loathing coming from him, and knew this would not be the last she would hear from him. She didn't say anything, knowing it would hurt to much, but she nodded at him, and then turned her attention back to Jack.

She had seen him angry the night before, and expected to see something similar in his eyes at that moment, but if anything he looked gleeful, and she found herself feeling almost as nervous as the men around her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his wrist flick and had to fight back a scream. Blood began falling over Gary's shirt and she was sure Jack had just killed him, but when she looked more closely she saw that while he had indeed cut his throat, he had done it expertly, not having gone deep enough to kill the man, just enough to create a lot of blood and scare everyone. It would definitely leave quite the scar though, assuming he didn't slowly bleed to death.

None of the men said a word, and for a moment she wasn't sure what would happen. Then Gary's friend tightened his grip and tugged him away. "Let's get out of here. These two are nuts, Gary." And with that, they fled into the night.

* * *

Jack stood panting, his eyes fixed on his blood covered knife, finding the way it shimmered in the faint light to be completely mesmerizing. He knew that the men had fled, but hadn't actually seen them going because he had become transfixed as soon as the hot blood had slipped over his hands. It was the third time he had felt the thick, warm fluid cover his gloves that evening, and he was beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed by the sensation. Not in a bad way exactly, but definitely in a mind deadening way. The other two men that had met with his blade had not walked away, and while he generally enjoyed killing, it did sometimes leave him feeling a bit off.

He felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder and spun to grab the offending person, his knife once again making light contact with a neck. He blinked rapidly, trying to see what was really in front of him, but instead all he could see was a familiar male face leering at him. He jerked his head back in confusion and shock, and the face melted away. It was replaced by Madeline's wide and fearful eyes, and he felt an unfamiliar lump in his throat. He dropped his blade from her neck and slipped it into his coat, his eyes firmly planted on the ground while his mind raced back to the present.

"Jack?" He could see her hand reaching up to his face, seemingly in slow motion. When her fingers brushed against the scar on his right cheek it felt like there were sparks in her fingertips. He wanted to jerk away from her touch, but he also wanted to lean into it, reveling in the kindness in her light caress. He glanced up to her eyes and saw that all the fear had drained from them, and she was now looking at his with concern. "Are you OK? You're bleeding."

He frowned slightly, shaking his head to clear the last traces of adrenaline fueled confusion from his mind. "Um, yeah, I'm fine." His hand reached up to his right shoulder, where he knew there was a shallow cut. "It's just a scratch."

Her eyes widened and her hand pulled away from his face, leaving it feeling cold in the night air. She moved forward and inspected the tear in his coat, her deft fingers finding the cut instantly and searching for the extent of the damage. "I hadn't even seen that, but you're right, its not bad. Your mouth is bleeding though."

He reached up and wiped his mouth pulling his hand back to look for blood, but he couldn't differentiate it from the rest of the red liquid on his gloves. "Well, I took a couple of punches earlier, so I guess I split my lip or something. Nothing for you to worry about." He paused and took a better look at her face. The left side was swelling up again, and he could see that there was new bruise filling the right side of her face as well. He was pleased to see that her neck seemed to be unbruised and he had even managed to avoid cutting her. Overall, she didn't look very good, but he knew she would be fine in a couple of days.

She looked into his eyes, her hands wound together in front of her, and her body swaying slightly. "Thank you, Jack. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up." Her voice was shaky and he could see that she had started shivering slightly. He knew she had been scared, but only a moment earlier she had seemed fine. For a minute he didn't know what was going on, and then realized that she was probably starting to go into shock. He didn't think it would be serious, but he didn't want to risk it so he grabbed her hand to lead her out of the alley and back to his hotel.

When they got to the opening of the narrow accessway she stopped him and made him face her. "I have to go home, Jack. I can't go with you." She already seemed stronger and her voice didn't shake when she spoke this time.

He looked at her for a moment then waved his hand at her face. "Looking like that?"

"Yes. Rob will be asleep and won't care anyway. He'll just say I deserved it." She sounded resigned, but surprisingly not unhappy.

He didn't want to let her go, but knew he didn't have any choice in the matter, so he let go of her hand. He nodded at her and started to step back, but she followed him to remain in his space. "Well alright then. I wish you would just…."

His planned words were cut off when her lips suddenly found his. Though the kiss was chaste and short, it still made his head reel. Her lips were so soft and and warm against his, and he wanted nothing more than for them to stay on his for the rest of time. Then she pulled away, and started to slowly back away from him, her eyes slightly glazed and her cheeks red under the bruising.

"Goodbye, Jack."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi there guys. I'm really, really sorry this chapter is so late. I actually had it all but ready to go last weekend, but then my most beloved animal got sick. I ended up spending most every waking hour caring for her, and I still lost her on Friday. After that I had some trouble getting the motivation to write for a couple of days. But I couldn't leave you guys hanging forever, so here is the long awaited chapter! I'm not totally thrilled with this one, but it is leading up to the good stuff. I just want to make sure I don't rush anything with this story. Please let me know what you guys think. I hope you enjoy it. So, without further ado, I bring you chapter seven. Thanks!**

**Chapter Seven - Mr. Brightside**

_I'm coming out of my cage, And I've been doing just fine, Gotta gotta be down, Because I want it all_

_It started out with a kiss, How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, It was only a kiss_

_Now I'm falling asleep, And she's calling a cab, While he's having a smoke, And she's taking a drag_

_Now they're going to bed, And my stomach is sick, And it's all in my head_

_But she's touching his chest now, He takes off her dress now, Let me go_

_And I just can't look its killing me, And taking control_

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, Swimming through sick lullabies, Choking on your alibis_

_But it's just the price I pay, Destiny is calling me, Open up my eager eyes, 'Cause I'm Mr Brightside_

_- The Killers_

Jack was swiftly pacing across the floor of his minuscule hotel room, just as he had been for the previous three hours. It was now after midnight and judging by the noises coming from the rooms around him business for the old hotel was good. He was only peripherally aware of those sounds however, as his mind was fully engrossed on another matter. A matter that he found rather infuriating, and not just a little concerning. It was Wednesday night - or Thursday morning to be accurate - and Madeline hadn't been at work that night or the night before. Both evenings he had been forced to tolerate the pretentious young blonde, and that alone would have been enough to set him off. Unfortunately that was really the least of the problems.

He had tried very hard to be polite to the other waitress, in spite of the fact that she had been anything but polite to him, but in spite of that she had been reticent to give him any information. All he had managed to learn was that she hadn't shown up for work on Tuesday, and had called and quit on Wednesday. The knowledge that she had at least called to quit told him that she was alive, but that was all he knew for sure. He could only assume it hadn't been her choice to quit, and that her husband had forced her to do it. He was fairly certain that his means of persuasion had consisted of using his fists to beat her into agreement, and just the thought of it made his fingers instinctively reach into his pants to caress his favorite knife, the feel of the cold metal soothing to him.

He had spent a good portion of the day looking for information regarding Roberto Maroni, and was annoyed to discover how little he could discover. It seemed that the people of Gotham were incredibly tightlipped when it came to anyone involved with the Falcones', and unfortunately for him there were few families in as tightly as the Maroni's. What he had managed to find out was that Rob had been working at the docks, but he had been fired over a month ago, and as far as he could tell had not found employment elsewhere since then. With that knowledge Jack figured Madeline would have to find a new job soon, seeing as her husband was not providing for them. That meant he just had to figure out where her new job was and then he would be able to see that she was OK with his own eyes. Though he wanted to do a lot more than just make sure she was alive and well, he knew he would have to settle for less than he wanted.

He could still imagine the feel of her lips on his, and had dreamed of nothing else since that night. He had kissed many women in his life, but he had never felt what he had with Madeline. He could only guess that was because all of the other women had been paid to like him, and none had actually wanted to kiss him. That little fact had never particularly bothered him before, but now that he had experienced the real thing he knew there was no going back. Though the kiss had hardly been more than a brushing of her lips against his, it had sent his entire mind and body reeling, and for that short moment nothing else had entered his mind. All the blood and gore, and the never ending stirrings in his mind had disappeared the second her lips had touched his. She had made him feel _OK_, and that was something he would never forget.

He viciously shook his head to clear it of those thoughts, snarling quietly at his own foolishness. As wonderful as that kiss had been, he knew it would not be happening again. He knew the difference between a "goodbye" that meant she would be seeing him soon, and a "goodbye" that meant he needed to stay away from her. The kiss had only been one of farewell, not invitation to continue their relationship. He would make sure she was OK, and then he would leave her alone. He hated the thought, but he would do it. He could respect a person's wishes just this once, even if it was last thing he wanted to do.

He reached up and ran his fingers through his messy waves, groaning slightly when the motion tugged on the healing flesh of his stomach. His escapades on Monday night hadn't done his body any favors, and he ached from top to bottom. He hadn't really stopped to notice it, but now that he did, he realized the folly of the last few days. His body needed rest, even if his mind didn't, and so he laid down on the bed, his fingers clasped behind his head on the pillow. He only lay there a few moments before he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Madeline sat on the same bench in the little park, but this time it was sunset not sunrise, and she was far from happy. There was little to be happy about at that point. Rob had forced her to quit her job at the diner, after nearly sending her to the hospital. He hadn't been upset that she had gotten hit for being disrespectful, he had in fact been thrilled by the news, but he had been angry that she hadn't promptly quit the job. He had apparently been talking to his mother earlier that day and she had stressed how inappropriate Madeline's job at the diner was, and with new fuel to add to his sudden displeasure he had insisted she quit. For the first time in years she had argued with him, and she had paid the price for her disrespect. The price was several broken ribs, a sprained ankle, a most likely fractured wrist, and more bruises than one body should ever have at one time. Though the bruises were fading at that point, she knew she still looked a mess.

She had forgone the coffee on this trip, knowing that she would need to get to sleep as early as possible if she was going to manage getting up at 5:00 to make it to her new job. She had started work at the docks three mornings before, in the fish department. She now had the joyous job of gutting and cleaning fish ten hours a day, and had in fact only gotten off work a little while earlier. She figured that Rob would be mad if she got home late, but hardly cared at that point. She needed some time to herself in order to survive.

Her new job did not allow her to be away from the house in the evenings when Rob would do most of his drinking, and so she had been forced to play the loving wife even more than before. Bringing him and his friends beer, whiskey and snacks wasn't all that different than working at the diner, but it was after his friends would leave that the real _fun_ would begin. Up until that point she had been able to avoid intimacy with him most of the time because he was generally passed out drunk by the time she got home, but that was no longer true, and just the thought of the last few nights was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

It was with those thoughts in her head, her hands shaking, and tears filling her eyes, that she spotted the figure leaning on a lamp post across the street. Even though her eyes were unfocused and bleary she was easily able to recognize the tall man, even before her eyes reached his scarf covered face or the dark eyes above it. When she did reach those eyes she saw her own confliction and despair mirrored back at her, and she was riddled with guilt for causing him pain.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then he gave his head a brisk nod and turned away from her, striding down the broken sidewalk toward his hotel. She wanted to leave him be and just let him go, but her body had other ideas, and before she knew it she was on her feet crossing the street to get to him. She had to jog to catch him, but she managed to do it a block shy of his grungy residence.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and breathlessly called out to him. "Jack." He jerked out from under her hand and spun around with a look of pure rage in his eyes.

"I thought you said he wouldn't be mad the other night?!" he shouted, waving his hand around her face.

She stepped back, confusion and hurt filling her mind and face. "He-he wasn't. This was about something else." She looked up at him, pleading that he would understand and stop being so angry. However, based on the way his chocolate eyes looked more like onyx than chocolate, she didn't think she was that lucky.

He snorted with derision, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Oh, so that makes it OK? It's fine that he beat the hell out of you just because it wasn't due to someone _else_ beating you first? That's _priceless_!" He actually started giggling and Madeline wasn't quite sure what to make of his mood.

She tentatively stepped forward once more, and slowly pulled his scarf down so she could touch his face the way she had been longing to for over a week. The tissue of his scar was hard, but the skin was soft and warm just as she remembered it. She heard him growl quietly, but he didn't pull away from her as her fingertips lightly traced the edges of his permanent grin. She looked into his deep eyes and whispered, "No, Jack, it doesn't make it OK. Nothing about this," she used her other hand to illustrate her words, "is _OK_. I was only trying to tell you that I didn't lie to you."

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes warming slightly, then he pulled away from her hand and glared down at her again. "You wanna know how I got those?" He grinned at her sinisterly, the glare not leaving his face.

She studied him for a long moment trying to understand why his mood jumped around the way it did. It seemed to her that whenever he got angry or stressed another part of him would join the party. Jack was always dark in a way, but in moments like this it almost seemed like he was insane. Finally she decided that her best bet would be to continue with calm kindness. She reached her hand back out and lightly rested it on his arm avoiding his face and the scars that seemed to trigger something in him. She sighed slightly before responding, her eyes still locked on his. "Not today. I do want to know someday, though."

He frowned down at her in confusion and irritation, but then his face suddenly broke into a warm smile. "Someday, huh? So, that means you're not just telling me goodbye, again? You're done running and hiding from me."

When she heard the words leaving his mouth she realized just what she had said, and that she had meant it just the way he had taken it. At least in the moment she had said it, but now that it was out she didn't know what to do. Her mind told her that she should retract her statement and leave, but deep down she knew that was no longer an option. She was already in too deep for that, and she was going to stick around regardless of the cost. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before she responded. "Yes, Jack. I'm done trying to bail water out of the sinking ship that is my life. I like you, and I want to be around you. I'm tired of fighting what I want, just to keep Rob happy. Especially since he never is _happy_."

She pulled her hand from his arm and intertwined her fingers in front of her, looking away from him to study the ground instead. She knew she had said too much, but it was too late to go back now. She had only spoken the truth, but in her experience the truth was usually the most dangerous thing you could say. She chanced a look up at him and saw that he was now serious, but he still seemed to be happy.

"So you're leaving him then." It wasn't a question, just a statement, and she wished he was right.

"No, I'm not going to leave him. That just isn't possible."

He sighed and looked at her with annoyance. "So, you're just going to let him kill you then? Maybe wait until you have a couple of kiddos that can watch while he does it, hmmm?"

She suddenly understood why he got so upset by her domestic situation. Though she doubted he would admit it any time soon, she knew that he had been one of those _kiddos_ he referred to. It made everything about him make a little more sense, and she felt a surge of sorrow flood through her. She reached out and took his hands, staring into his eyes to try to show him how certain she was about what she was about to say. "There will never be any children in my house, Jack."

His eyes narrowed and he looked at her as if she was rather dim witted. "There are always little _accidents_."

She shook her head firmly. "Not for me."

She was surprised when he smiled and shook his head like she had said something funny. "Famous last words, doll." He turned away from her, but didn't let go of her right hand, pulling her slightly behind him as he started down the sidewalk again. "Come on. Let's go to my place and have some coffee."

She knew she should stop him, tell him no, but she didn't want to. And for once she did what she wanted, not what she should.

* * *

Once again, Jack found Madeline in front of him in his hotel room. This time it was she that sat on the end of the bed however, and she was infinitely more nervous than she had been the first time. She was staring at the floor, and chewing so hard on her lower lip that he was afraid she would make it bleed is she didn't stop soon. He turned away from her and poured two cups of coffee from the small pot on his desk. He turned back to her and crossed the short distance between them to hand her the steaming cup. "Sorry its black. I know you like cream and sugar, but I don't keep that stuff here."

She looked up at him with a perturbed frown on her discolored face. "How do you know how I like my coffee?"

He shifted slightly, uncomfortable with her inquiry. He wasn't one to generally care about what people liked or disliked, and the fact that he had taken the time to find that out about her made him uncomfortable enough, without having to explain himself to her. So instead, he shrugged, flapping his hands out to the side slightly and sloshing a little bit of his own coffee out of the little paper cup and onto the floor. Then he abruptly dropped cross legged on the floor, taking a sip from his cup once he was settled.

Her eyes narrowed and she huffed an irritated sigh, before she took a sip of her own coffee and wrinkled her nose with distaste. "You're not getting out of that one with a shrug, buddy. If we're going to be friends, then this will be a give and take kind of relationship."

He looked up at her, and his expression was somehow both dangerous and amused. "Well, in that case you're the one that is failing miserably. _I_ gave _you_ a cup of coffee, which you took. You however, haven't given me _anything_ since you got her." He chuckled darkly and expected her to get the frightened look that everybody else got when he acted this way, but she surprised him by smirking down at him instead.

"I guess you're right, it is my turn to give you something. So, I'll give you a very polite thank you. Thank you for this _delicious_ coffee, Jack. See, now its your turn again." Her smile was nearly predatory and Jack had to admit that it made her look even more beautiful than usual. Even with the mess of bruises marring her features.

Jack groaned in irritation and went back to his coffee, avoiding her piercing blue eyes. He really didn't want to tell her that he had asked the coffee vendor how she took her coffee that cold morning in the park. Just asking the question of the man had embarrassed and annoyed him, and the thought of telling her about it was downright mortifying. He did know that she was never ending in her attempts to gain knowledge of what she wanted though. She had after all, managed to get his name out of him and no one else in Gotham had done that.

He chanced a glance up at her, and saw that her smile had softened slightly. "Fine, you win." He grinned up at her when he heard those words, maybe he was wrong about her persistence. Then her smile grew again, and he realized he wasn't getting off that easy. "For now, that is. You're gonna have to tell me someday."

"Fine." he snarled at her, turning away to look out the window at the fading light. When he looked back at her she was looking out the window as well, her expression impossible to read. "So, how long are you gracing me with your presence today?"

She jerked her head up as though she had forgotten he was there, her eyes slightly glassy. "Oh, um, not long. I need to get home soon. I don't want to give Rob any reason to change the color palette on my body."

Her words shook something in him and he could feel his barely checked rage starting to push at the barriers in his mind. He also felt more of the emotions that had been plaguing him for the last week; concern, fear, maybe even a touch of sorrow. He gracefully rose back onto his feet, crouching in front of Madeline like she had in front of him only a little over a week before. "How badly are you hurt?"

She wouldn't look at him, and was staring down into her coffee, as if it held the key to the universe. She shrugged her shoulders slightly, letting them fall slowly back down before she answered him in a small voice. "Not too bad… Couple of broken ribs, mostly just bruises and stuff."

Jack felt his vision clouding slightly, and fought to maintain control of his mind. It was true that he hated men to beat women, but it hadn't affected him like this in years. In fact, he couldn't remember ever caring more than slightly when he saw a battered woman walking down the street, but there was something about Madeline that made his blood boil whenever he thought of her husband laying his hands on her. It even disturbed him if he thought of a loving caress, maybe even more than the thought of a punch.

He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath in through his nose, expelling it slowly from his mouth. It didn't help much to calm his racing mind, but he was able to see clearly at least. "Let me see." His voice was soft, but he made sure it was commanding as well. He needed to see how bad it was, needed to know how quickly _Rob_ was escalating his violence.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and fearful. "You already can see my face. I told you everything, and you don't need to see anything else." He voice was shockingly forceful, and he knew that she didn't want him to see what was hidden under her shirt.

He peered at her, his head tilting slightly to the left as he considered how to move forward. Finally he reached forward and gently gripped the edge of her shirt, slowly lifting it so he didn't scare her. "Yes. I do."

He was surprised that she didn't fight him as he tugged her shirt up, exposing her narrow waist. Instead, she looked back out the window, her eyes flat and seemingly not there anymore. He stopped lifting her shirt when he reached the bottom of her breasts, not feeling sure that he would be able to restrain himself if he exposed the lace covered swell there. Surprisingly the first thing he noticed wasn't the bruises, it was how slender her waist was. In fact, she was far too thin, perhaps even slightly malnourished.

He looked up at her and placed his hand on her warm cheek, forcing her to look back at him. "Why are you so thin?"

She was obviously confused and slightly hurt by his question. After a moment she seemed to find her voice, and she sounded rather haughty when she responded. "Don't most men like that?"

Jack squinted at her and cleared his throat. "Well, I don't really know what most men like, but I don't think you are the kind of woman that really cares what men like."

She sighed with resignation. "We don't really have a budget for high quality food most of the time. Rob's booze comes first, so I usually make due with what I can." She shrugged slightly. "It was better when I was at the diner."

Jack nodded, and then turned back to her stomach, this time actually looking at her injuries. He saw that she most definitely did have some broken ribs, and was actually surprised she was moving as well as she was considering how one of the ribs was completely out of place and would never heal. Other than the broken ribs, her entire abdomen was covered in various large contusions. Rob had done quite a job on her, and Jack wondered how long he would restrain himself from killing his own wife.

He shifted his weight slightly on his feet so he would have better leverage, and placed his hand over the rib that was poking at her skin. "Well, doll, this is going to hurt, but you'll feel better once its done." He didn't wait for her to register what he had said, and just abruptly shoved on the rib until he felt it pop back into place.

Madeline screamed. Loudly. Jack jerked his hand from her side and over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound slightly until she calmed. The last thing he needed was for some idiot to think he was hurting a hooker up there and call in the pimps to deal with it. He felt the screams stop against his palm, being replaced by whimpers and pulled his hand away. Her eyes held pooled tears, but she wasn't really crying, and their blue depths definitely held accusatory hurt.

He moved up onto the edge of the bed beside her and lightly put his arm over her shoulder. "Sorry, doll. It had to be done. It would have never healed that way." He turned and used his index finger to shift her face to his. "Does it feel better now?"

She didn't respond to his question, just looked at him with such a jumble of emotion in her eyes that he couldn't even begin to fathom what she was thinking. Then she suddenly moved forward, closing the inches between them before he could even register it, and her lips were on his once more. The contact was light at first, but quickly became more aggressive, almost feeling like she was trying to devour him. Before he knew it his hands were twined in her silky hair, and he could feel her hands greedily moving on his chest. There was a primal quality to their embrace that he had never felt before, and his breath began to come out in harsh pants through his nose. He wanted her in every way, and in that moment he could tell that she wanted him back.

The moment was short however, and she pulled away from him just as abruptly as she had initiated the kiss. Her eyes were heavy and her breathing was ragged, but she squared her shoulders, straightening her shirt as she moved further away from him on the bed. "I'm sorry I keep doing that, Jack." Her voice was as contrite as her words, and her eyes glowed with guilt. "I have no business kissing you, and giving you false hope."

Jack didn't know what to say, he was far from sorry that she had kissed him again. He was only sorry that she had stopped, and that now she was trying to pull herself back together instead of pulling him into bed with her. He wanted to say that to her, but couldn't seem to find the words, those words or any others for that matter. Instead he just looked at her foolishly, lifting his hand to brush away the saliva from his still damp lips.

He found his voice when she rose and started putting her jacket on. "Where are you going?" He was horrified that his voice sounded so panicked, and struggled to get himself back under control. "You can't possibly be planning on going back to him now." He knew that was her plan, but didn't want to believe it.

She turned and looked him levelly in the eye. "Yes Jack, I'm leaving and going back to my _husband_. We both know I have one of those, though I seem to forget when I'm around you for some reason." She walked across the room and leaned over him, hugging him to her while his arms hung limply at his sides. "If we're going to be friends you have to help me remember that, Jack." She turned away and walked to the door, her head down as if she were walking into a strong wind. She didn't look back at him when she walked out, leaving him alone with his confused mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Well hello there! It took me a little extra time to get this one out, but its also a little longer than usual, so hopefully that makes up for it!**

**I want to thank all of you that reviewed in the last week (or ever)! Every time I read a new review it fills me with joy, and makes me want to try harder to make this story all that it should be. I especially want to thank Tracy and ThisIsAGuest since I'm not able to send you a personal thank you message. If you ever decide to sign up and leave me a review I will definitely personally tell you what your reviews mean to me. I also want to thank everybody that has followed or favorited this story. I especially enjoy hearing everybody's thoughts, but those notifications make me grin too. I'm really happy that so many of you are enjoying this story and want to keep reading it. Thanks!**

**Okay, lets get to it!**

* * *

**Chapter Nine - Busted**

_I forget when the words were only words, She knows the party makes me nervous, In this stage we can't get hurt, Don't try to understand me_

_Were too cool to be alone, But, not too crazy to get busted_

_I found out one life just ain't enough, I need another soul to feed on, I'm the flame I can't get burnt, Im wholly understated_

_I found silence in this space, An on and off again attraction, I need such amazing grace, Heaven sweep me away_

_Love don't change, don't come around here, Don't wear my heart on your sleeve, Like a high school letter, Don't strain, cuz nothing ever comes from it, And the people we've become, well, They've never been the people who we are_

_- Matchbox 20_

Jack lay on the bed, his eyes staring blankly at the cracked and dirty ceiling above him. He had been trying to read moments before, but yet again, that _woman_ was intruding on his thoughts and he couldn't focus. When he had finally given up he had made his way to the bed and thought that he would perhaps try to take a nap. He did after all, plan on going out to find Sergio again later that evening. He had been able to track the man down on two occasions since he was shot, but both times the degenerate had eluded him, and that was a problem that was beginning to annoy Jack. Sergio had also managed to draw blood each time they met, and that was something else that disturbed Jack. He was not overly accustomed to letting people get the upper hand, and refused to make a habit of it. Deep down he knew it was at least partially because he was distracted, but he didn't want to admit it to himself, or anyone else for that matter. The only thing he would allow himself to think was that once he had killed the conniving bastard he could get back to normal.

He closed his eyes and tried to force his always racing mind to still enough in order to allow him sleep, but the hamster wheel in his head only seemed to speed up at his attempt. He growled with frustration and flipped over on the bed, smothering his face in a pillow. It was early evening and he had planned on waiting for full dark to go out and search for Sergio, but his body and mind were both aching for action, so he began to rise from the bed with the intention of starting the evening early. He didn't even make it off the bed before there was a soft knock at his door. He snarled with irritation, knowing it would be Tiffany on the other side of the door, trying yet again to talk him into spending time with her. He was in no mood for her games and planned on sending her packing - this time for good - when he ripped the door open, a dark and malevolent glare on his face.

He could not have possibly been more surprised by the person outside of the door if it had been the Virgin Mary herself. Madeline stood in the hallway, a paper bag in her arms and a very nervous look on her face. She released her lower lip from her teeth and gave him a small smile. "Hey, I brought dinner." She lifted the bag slightly to indicate that dinner was within it.

Jack stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging slightly open in shock. He hadn't expected to see her for days at least, possibly even never if her husband went after her again. And yet here she was, and only 24 hours had passed since she had been there before. He was completely dumbstruck. After a moment he was finally able to formulate a sentence, even though it wasn't a very good one. "Oh, um, come in then." He stood back and allowed her to pass, inhaling deeply as she went by, trying to catch a whiff of her pretty smell. However, all he smelled was fish, and not a good kind of fish smell either.

She walked over to his desk as if she owned the place, and began unloading the large bag. "So, I brought flavored creamer for my coffee, and it doesn't need to be refrigerated. I also got some bread, cheese, turkey, and a couple of packets of mayo from the deli counter. And I bought cheetos… I figured that was the best bet without dip." She finally had everything unloaded and turned to him with a look that made him wince. She almost looked fearful, and it was the first time he had seen that expression in his presence. "Is that OK for you? I didn't know what you would like…"

He inwardly sighed seeing this side of her; the side that had to please or face the consequences. He moved toward her slowly and calmly, in spite of the fact that his temper was rising. Not really because of her, but since she was the only person in the room he knew she would be the recipient of his anger if he was to lose his cool. When he reached her he lightly gripped her chin, careful not to push too hard on her healing bruises, and tilted her head up so she would look at him.

"You know that I am not your husband, right?" She nodded slightly in his hand, but looked confused, so he continued. "I'm not going to fly off the handle just because you don't bring the right sandwich meat home. Now, I don't want to see this timid woman here again." He let go of her chin and looked over the food she had brought. "Oh, and for the record, I mostly eat ramen with crackers at every meal. What you brought is a feast in comparison."

He glanced back at her and saw her face split into a radiant smile. He didn't think he had ever seen her look so happy, and was glad that the fear had completely evaporated. Then her smile turned to its normal teasing look and she poked him lightly in his uninjured side. "I thought you ate oranges too."

He raised his eyebrows and his lips twitched to smile back at her, but he contained it. "I do eat them. Fast. The ones I bought when I saw you in the store were gone by the next day."

Her smile grew wider and she reached back into the bag. "Good. I got you more." She pulled out a mesh bag full of beautifully ripe oranges and shoved it to his chest before turning back to the desk and opening the bread bag. "Oh, do you have a knife?"

He grinned slightly behind her back. The question was too amusing to suppress the smile. "Do I ever, doll."

* * *

Madeline had meant her question as a bit of a joke, because she knew he had at least one knife that he carried with him. She had seen it that night in the alley, and hadn't forgotten the cruel glint of the moonlight on its cold surface. The true hilarity of her question hadn't been obvious until she asked it, however. She had watched him set the bag of oranges down on the desk, his head lowered, hiding his face, and then he had begun rummaging in his pockets. At first he had pulled three knives out and laid them in front of her, but he wasn't done yet and she had watched with curious awe as he began moving about the room pulling blades from practically every corner. She saw him retrieve at least two from his coat, another from under his pillow, and he disappeared into the bathroom to return with even more blades.

By the time he was done there were over a dozen knives laid out on the desk. They came in all sizes and styles, ranging from little over two inches in length to one that could almost be considered a small sword, and plain ones with plastic handles, to a dagger that looked like it was made of pure silver. She knew she should probably be frightened by them, and by his little display of showing them to her, but she wasn't. She was mostly just impressed. Impressed by the collection itself, and the fact that he had shown it to her, doubting he had ever shown them to anyone else. She looked each one over and then began picking them up to study more closely.

His hand dropped down on hers as she reached for the silver dagger. "You can use whichever one you want, but be careful. They are all very sharp." Though he was trying to hide his face from her, she was able to see his full smile behind the mop of tangled hair.

She reached up and brushed away the lock of hair that was covering his face, seeing his smile disappear instantly as his cover was removed. "You have a wonderful smile. Please stop trying to hide it from me." He shifted swiftly and kissed her fingertips before she could pull them away, and then gave her a small smile.

He strode away and plopped down cross legged in the middle of the bed. "So, how about that sandwich, doll?"

She had been so engrossed by his knives, and then his smile that she had completely forgotten about making sandwiches, but she turned back to the desk and set to work. Her fingers were still tingling from where he had kissed them and she both hated it and loved it. She was unsure what had possessed her to call Rob from work and tell him that she was working a double, but she had. She was even less sure what had made her walk to the store and buy the food, and then tugged her to Jack's doorstep. She had to admit that she was happy to be there though. She felt content in a way she hadn't in years. She also was surprised to notice that she felt _safe_, in spite of the fact that she most certainly wasn't.

She was spreading the mayonnaise on the the bread with the silver dagger - just to feel something so luxurious in her hand - when she heard Jack's weight shift on the bed. She didn't turn away from her task or even pause, but she desperately wanted to look at him. Then, faster than should have been possible, he was behind her, his warm breath falling on the back of her neck. He pulled her ponytail off of her neck and placed a soft kiss at the top of her shoulders, sending minute shivers down her spine. She felt him step back and then the most unromantic words filled her ears. "You smell very _fishy_."

She smiled in spite of the fact that she should have found what he said to be insulting. She had already noticed that he wasn't the most tactful person in the world, and he actually seemed to have very little skill with people in general, but that was part of the reason she liked him. He was without pretense and she doubted he could ever lie to her, even if he wanted to. He was simply too blunt for those kinds of games.

She twirled on her heel and casually tilted her head, exposing her neck as if she were trying to enhance the scent of some perfume. "What, you don't like it? I paid 30 bucks for the bottle a Macy's." She forced her face into a pout, just for the fun of it, and was thrilled to see Jack's look of horror. His face red - except for his scars that stood in bright, white contrast - and he was obviously trying to form words that simply wouldn't come.

She let him wallow in his embarrassment for a moment before her face broke into a grin, and she punched him lightly in the shoulder. "I was kidding. I'm working in the fish processing plant down at the docks. I would never pay money to smell like this." She turned back to the preparation of their meal, not waiting to see his look of irritation. She did hear his quiet growl and then the sinking of the bed again.

She swiftly finished up the sandwiches and grabbed the bag of Cheetos before turning to face the bed. There weren't any plates in the small hotel room so she had the sandwiches sitting in her palm on a couple of paper towels she had found in the corner of the room. She was rather surprised to find Jack playing solitaire silently on the bed, completely ignoring her. She made her way to the bed and roughly plopped herself down, right in the middle of his cards. He left loose a sound that was somehow a combination of a strangled squawk and a laugh, and instantly reached out and grabbed her. He pulled her close to him for just an instant, kissing her deeply before releasing her and taking the chips and a sandwich from her hands with a giggle.

He shoved an enormous bite into his mouth, "Thanks for 'inner, Maddy."

She looked at him completely dumbfounded. His kiss had been unexpected, as was his reaction to her sitting down on the cards. She had expected the cranky Jack to pop up, not this grinning clown. And then his words reached her brain, and she felt her mouth drop open. "Wh-what did you just call me?"

He frowned at her, confusion clear on his face. He chewed the second bite that he already had in his mouth thoroughly, before tilting his head and looking at her with slitted eyes. "I called you Maddy. A typical nickname for Madeline. Which is your name." He explained it slowly, as if she had sustained a head injury or some other affliction that had left her particularly dense.

"Why?" she whispered.

Now his eyes rolled up to the ceiling and his tongue slipped out anxiously. "You don't seem like a Lynn, and Madeline is just too much of a mouthful. Especially with a big bite of food ready in my mouth." He looked at her again, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and annoyance. "If you don't like it I won't call you that."

She smiled softly, trying to reassure him. "No, no I like it. Its just the only person that ever called me that was my dad, and well... I just haven't heard that name in a long time." She took a bite of her sandwich, her mouth suddenly feeling like sandpaper. She really did like the name, and didn't mind if Jack called her that, but thoughts of her father were hard to take.

Jack watched her quietly while he scarfed down the sandwich and started to tear into the cheetos with gusto. Finally after several minutes of near silence he asked the question she had known was coming. "So, when did he die?"

She desperately wanted to avoid the conversation, but knew that she always pushed his questions aside. She had made the conscious decision to become his friend - risking her life to do it - and if she was going to live up to her end of the relationship she was going to need to open up soon. So, she closed her eyes briefly, trying to gather some strength, then she dove in. "He died almost seven years ago. When I first met Rob."

* * *

Jack felt an odd pull in his chest at her words. Was it a coincidence that her father had died when she first met the man that was to become her husband, or was it something more? He didn't know the answer, but thought that now wasn't the time to ask. He just nodded trying to give her an interested look before stuffing another handful of Cheetos in his mouth. He hadn't had them in years, and was finding them to be rather addictive, in spite of the direction the conversation had taken.

He let her take her time, watching as she nibbled at her sandwich halfheartedly. Then she sighed and looked at him with eyes that hardly looked like they were there with him anymore, she seemed to actually be staring straight through him. "I met Rob, and within a couple of weeks my dad was found dead in a dumpster. It took them a couple of days to identify the body because he was so mangled, but they used his fingerprints and found his record. His very long record."

She tried to take another bite of her food, but pulled it away without actually taking any. She looked down at it with remorse, then handed it to him. "Here, I'm not really hungry any more."

He studied her for a moment, then took it from her with a small shrug. "Thanks. That's rough about your dad. I assume you liked him?"

She smiled softly, and he didn't even need to hear her answer to know that her relationship with her father had been nothing like the one he'd had with his. "Yeah, my dad was wonderful. Granted, he wasn't what the world considers a good man, but he took care of me the best he could. He worked hard and took any jobs he could get with a limited education and lack US residency. I always knew he loved me." She picked up one of the cards he had been playing with while she made the sandwiches, turning it over in her hands. "He could kick anyone's ass at poker as long as there wasn't money involved. If there was, he was guaranteed to lose. I imagine that's why they killed him. He owed them a lot of money, and couldn't work it off fast enough." She sighed, letting the card fall from her fingers. "Ok, enough about me. You're turn."

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to decide if he could tell her any stories from his childhood. At that moment he couldn't think of a single one that was good, or happy, though he figured there must be one in his mind somewhere. All he could remember was his father's blotchy, red face glaring at him and his fist raised to strike. He didn't think that was what she wanted to hear right then, so he opted for the short version. "Your dad sounds nice. Mine wasn't. End of story."

She chuckled humorlessly, and tiredly rubbed at her temples. "Well, one of these days you're gonna have to tell me the whole story." He nodded, but didn't say anything in reply. "You should at least tell me something about yourself. I just told you all about my dad, and you gave me three little sentences in return." She finally looked him in the eye, and attempted a bright smile, that wasn't quite convincing.

He cocked his head and scowled slightly, waving the last bite of bread to indicate his face. "Do you want to know how I got these?" It was his favorite story. Mainly because he never told the truth, a horrific lie was far better than reliving those moments, and he still got the fun of seeing people squirm. Just thinking that made him wonder why he kept trying to tell a new lie to Maddy. He didn't particularly like watching her discomfort or fear, and that was why he always chose that story to tell people when they asked, or even when they didn't. With her though, he had to wonder if he _could_ lie. Was that why he was just itching to tell her? So he could finally tell someone the truth? He firmly shook his head, that was impossible, he would never tell a single soul what had really happened the night he got his permanent smile.

She studied him seriously for a long moment, her eyes squinted and her mouth in a hard line. Finally she shook her head, and oddly he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "No, I have to say that I don't think I'm ready to hear that story. Sorry." She looked away from him for a second, and when she looked back at him her face was filled with the sweetest smile he had ever seen on a human being. "Tell me a happy story."

He racked his brain for anything good, wondering briefly if she had somehow read his mind when he had thought that there were no good memories to be had. And then a blurry image of a malnourished brown dog came to his mind, and while he doubted it was exactly what she was looking for, it was the best he had. "When I was a kid we lived in a neighborhood a lot like this, and the school district was scared that if they sent busses into our area they would get car-jacked or something, so if a kid wanted to go to school, they walked. I was probably ten or eleven, and I had been walking to school since I was five. Of course, I didn't always go, but at that point I was making an effort to get there most days."

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "So anyway, one day I was walking home and there was this ugly little brown dog that popped out from behind a dumpster. Most dogs out there were feral and would bite you if you entered their turf, but this one didn't seem mean. I knew better than to approach it though, so I just went home. Well, the next day the dog was there again and it started to follow me. I still ignored it, but I kind of felt bad for it. It was really skinny and kind of beat up… I guess it just reminded me of all the people that lived there. So the next day I saved a little bit of the sandwich I had for lunch and brought it with me when I went home. The dog was still there, so I tossed him the food and he gobbled it up happily. I did that every day after that. I always tried to save as much as I could for him, but it was never more than a quarter of a bunny bread and bologna sandwich, or a few chips. It didn't take long before he would let me pet him, and sometimes he would even walk most of the way home with me, but I knew he could never come all the way to the house. He seemed to know that too and would wander off about a block away from my house. I named him Pongo, and he was sort of my dog for about a year. I even kept finding him and feeding him over the summer break. He was a good dog."

Maddy was looking at him with a small smile on her face. "That is a nice story. What happened to little Pongo?"

Jack debated for a minute, he knew what had happened to the dog, but didn't think it was a very good ending to what was supposed to be a happy story. He clearly remembered the morning he was walking with his father to the little market so that Jack could shoplift, while his father distracted the clerk. They had been near the alley where the dog had first appeared, and he had noticed what looked like trash in the gutter a little ways down the road. It had been hard to recognize the mangled form as beloved friend, but at the moment he did his father had kicked it with a proud grin on his face. _"Took me a week to catch that mutt close enough to the road to hit it, but I finally got 'im. Can't have mangy mutts roaming around here, they might take food we need from the dumpsters."_ So instead of ruining a good story with that, he shrugged. "I don't know… I guess other people were feeding him and someone took him home finally."

Madeline looked at him for a moment and he was sure that she had seen through his lie, but then she grinned. "I sure hope so. He sounded like a sweetheart. I'm sorry he didn't get to go home with you though."

She grabbed the nearly empty bag of Cheetos and the dirty napkins off of the bed, carrying them to the desk. She then quickly cleaned up the small mess she had made, dropping the trash in the wastebasket and putting the leftovers back in the bag. She put the bag in the window sill and turned back to him, pointing at the bag. "Its cold enough that if you leave the bag in the window everything should be okay there for a few days." She smiled deviously. "Not that I expect it to last that long. You have quite the appetite."

Jack remained motionless on the bed. The memory from his childhood weighing heavily on him. He had worked very hard to forget as much of his past as was possible and he wasn't enjoying the flood that had been caused by his probing. Images of his mother crying, his father drinking, his baby sister slowly dying, and many more filled his mind, and there was little room left for thoughts of the present.

He was abruptly jerked from his thoughts when he felt slender, and warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Thanks Jack, it was really nice having someone to talk to." She brushed her lips against his cheek, not really kissing him, but giving him chills nonetheless. "I have to get home. It's already getting late, and I know Rob will get curious if I'm not there when I should be."

Jack still didn't feel capable of speech, but he hugged her tightly to him for an instant before she pulled away. "See you soon, Jack."

He could merely nod in response and watch her as she pulled her coat on and walked out of the room. Then he grabbed the pack of cigarettes off of the nightstand and lit one. He didn't smoke all that often, but with his mind feeling the way it did then he knew he needed one. As he exhaled a large plume of smoke, he wondered soon _soon_ would be, and if his mind could handle any more trips down memory lane at her request.

* * *

Sergio stood in the shadow of a crumbling brick building that used to house a department store back when the Narrows weren't the bad part of town. He could remember his mother taking him there to get school clothes when he was a kid, but even back then the store had been poorly stocked and dirty. He figured its heyday had probably been in the 50's, when the Narrows was just a small industrial area outside of Gotham. As he had grown up he had watched the normal blue collar people move away, and the crime syndicates move in. Though he had worked on fishing boats for most of his younger years, he had to admit that he preferred working at the docks. His favorite work was what he did as a low level enforcer for the Falcones. He was very low level, having never even met Mr. Falcone, but he didn't mind. It was the work that he enjoyed, not the title.

He wasn't standing out in the cold for work right then. No, this was a personal mission. He was tired of watching his back every time he was out after dark, and he knew it was time to turn the tables on the scarred freak that had been pursuing him. He had known that hookers would be the best place to start, all grown men needed to get laid sometimes, and he doubted that any woman would willingly sleep with that ugly creep. So, that only left the many whores in the Narrows to take care of his needs. It hadn't taken long for Sergio to find a few that had seen his quarry, though none of them had actually been with him. They all agreed that he was staying at the old hotel that the prostitutes called home. And so as soon as he had gotten off work he had made his way into the moldy rubble that had once been his mother's favorite store so that he could watch the old hotel.

He had been there a little over an hour and he hadn't seen anything of interest. Giving up wasn't an option in his opinion, so he would stay there all night if that was what it took. He lit another cigarette and continued to watch with his frozen fingers stuffed in his pockets. That was when he saw something he would have never expected. A young woman walked out of the old hotel, her coat tightly wrapped around her to fight back the cold. Though her face was covered in healing bruises, and her body was concealed by the coat, he recognized her immediately. It was Rob Maroni's wife.

Suddenly the night held infinitely more promise. He knew that Rob would pay a pretty penny to know what his little wife was up to, and he would borrow from dear old dad to do it. Then there was the respect he would get from the Maroni family if he just told them for free. They would owe him a favor, a big one.

Maybe he didn't need to stake out the hooker headquarters anymore after all….


End file.
